


I May Be Naive But I'm Not Stupid

by FelOllie



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abortion as a plot point, Alive Claudia Stilinski, Alive Vernon Boyd & Erica Reyes, Alternate Universe - Dirty Dancing Fusion, Derek and Lydia are besties, Derek is jaded, Explicit Sexual Content, I'll add tags as needed, Jackson isn't as big an asshole as he seems, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Stiles is naive, Versatile Derek, general Kate Argent warning, versatile stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-01-18 07:04:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 73,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1419146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FelOllie/pseuds/FelOllie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles Stilinski is the young, naïve high school graduate who's headed off to Columbia University (with every intention of going on to Columbia Law) because that's what his parents expect of him. Even though, really, all he wants to do is take after his father and become a cop. </p><p>Derek Hale is the sexy, mysterious, just-this-side-of-standoffish-and-rude dance instructor. He and his partner, Lydia Martin, work the summers at the playing-at-posh mountain resort teaching the over-privileged adults and their spoiled kids how to do the merengue.</p><p>The summer proves to be exactly what Stiles needs to finally learn how to take control of his life.</p><p>But, what happens when it's over?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome To Redwood

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into writing Sterek but I hope I somehow manage to do them justice. I do not own Teen Wolf, Dirty Dancing, or the characters that belong to them. This work is for entertainment purposes only.
> 
> Chapters where sexy times ensue will be marked at the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Edited for timeline discrepancy.

It was the summer after graduation and the Stilinksi family were all crammed into the sheriff's SUV. Stiles and his brother Isaac in the backseat, Isaac ignoring everyone in favor of his headphones and Stiles chattering away with his dad about one of his current cases. John and Claudia in the front seat, the former with his fingers wrapped firmly around the hand of the latter. 

“Do you think they have lacrosse at the resort, Dad?” Stiles inquired, leaning around the back of his father's seat to wrap his arms around the older man's shoulders. 

“Dunno, kid. I know Finstock favors it, so it's possible.” the sheriff shrugged, patting his youngest son's arm.

“We're supposed to be on vacation, Stiles.” Claudia reminded him, turning in her seat to smile fondly in his direction. “You can play lacrosse at home whenever you want. Why not try something different this summer?”

Stiles smiled but his chest tightened a little like it did whenever he knew he was about to bow to his parent's wishes. “Sure, Mom. Sounds good.”

He plopped back against his seat, earning himself a dirty look from Isaac in the process. Stiles flipped him off with a grin then shifted his attention to the trees whipping past his window. He settled into the comfortable leather seat and let his mind wander. 

It's not that he was opposed to trying new things. Stiles loved experimenting and figuring out what he liked. It was one of his favorite pastimes, really. Hell, that's how he'd discovered he liked guys just as much as he liked girls in his freshmen year of high school. So Stiles was down for all the experimenting. It was just... He hated that he always felt the need to do exactly what his parents wanted even if it made him miserable. They didn't do it on purpose. He knew that. His parents wanted him to be happy and successful. Therefore, everything they asked him to do was what they thought to be in his best interest. And Stiles just never had the heart to say no. Which is the reason he found himself preparing to head off to New York City in September to attend Columbia University, focusing his studies on Human Rights. Then, it was straight on to Columbia Law. One day, Stiles would become a judge. No question about it, because that's what was expected of him.

What Stiles really wanted was to be a cop at the Beacon Hills PD, just like his father. He really wanted to follow in John's footsteps and become sheriff someday. But, his parents wanted more for their son and Stiles just didn't want to argue.

Columbia it was.

_____________________________________________________

An hour later the sheriff and his family were pulling up the long, snaking driveway of the Redwood Resort. John got a deal on the vacation because he and Finstock were old high school buddies. Otherwise, the Stilinski family would be pitching tents in the mountains somewhere like they did every other summer. 

John put the SUV in park just as Stiles and Isaac clamored from the backseat. Stiles stretched his long, lean limbs and scratched a hand through his slightly too long hair while making his way around the car to take a good look at the sprawling mountain lodge. People milled about everywhere, some just arriving and carrying luggage, others engaged in the usual summertime activities on the massive lawn. 

“Damn. See Mom? I should have brought my cleats.” Isaac groused to Claudia, jerking his head towards a pair of twins who were hauling football gear.

“I'm sure you can borrow a pair, Isaac.” Claudia soothed her eldest boy, running her fingers affectionately through his sandy blonde curls. 

Isaac rolled his eyes but dipped his head so his mother could reach his hair more easily. He had at least a foot and a half on her.

“Now we're discussing the big issues.” Stiles interjected, smirking as his brother pushed him. 

“Shut up, Stiles.” Isaac grumbled.

Stiles chuckled and shot his father a shit eating grin. His father winked but was distracted quickly when coach Finstock approached.

“John!” Finstock smiled widely, pulling John into a enthusiastic handshake/hug/back slapping combo. “Glad to see you managed to pull your ass away from Beacon Hills long enough to pay us a visit.”

“Bobby.” The sheriff thumped him on the shoulder before pulling out of the embrace. He tilted his head towards his family. “You remember my son Isaac. And of course you know Stiles.” He gestured to each of them respectively. 

Finstock nodded a greeting to both boys and offered Claudia a hello and a kiss on the cheek. He then motioned to the dark haired, bronze-skinned young man at his shoulder. “This is Scott. He's gonna help you with your bags and show you to your cabin. Saved you one right on the lake.” Finstock beamed.

Scott was too busy grinning unselfconsciously at Isaac to notice he'd been introduced. Stiles used a hand to cover his laugh.

“Scott!” Finstock nearly shouted. The younger man jolted to attention, his smile slipping as he turned toward the man. Finstock waved in the cars general direction. “The bags.”

“Oh, right.” Scott nodded. He offered one last charming smile at Isaac and then made his way toward the back hatch of the SUV.

Stiles took pity on the poor soul (he knew how many bags his mother and Isaac had brought along) and went along to help. Before he opened the hatch he held a hand out to Scott.

“Stiles.” He introduced himself, since John and Finstock had neglected to. “Scott, right?”

“Yeah.” Scott nodded his shaggy head quickly. “What kind of name is Stiles?”

“I couldn't pronounce my given name when I was a kid. My parents called me Stiles and it kind of stuck.” He shrugged as he started pulling luggage from the car. “It never occurred to me to ask them to stop.”

“Cool.” Scott grinned again, his smile open and carefree as he helped unload. 

Stiles immediately decided he liked Scott. From his shaggy black hair, crooked jaw, and boyish charm to the easy way he held himself, Stiles thought he and Scott could be friends. 

“So, you from around here?” Stiles asked while following Scott to their cabin, carrying as much luggage as he could fit on his person. 

“Nah.” Scott called back to him. “I live in Wolfwicke in the off-season.”

“Really?” Stiles asked excitedly. “I live in Beacon Hills.” 

Scott shot a grin over his shoulder. “Awesome! My mom works in Beacon Hills so I'm there a lot.”

“Awesome.” Stiles echoed.

A few more trips and they managed to clear the car of luggage. Stiles offered Scott a bottle of water from his bag then propped his hip against the porch railing. Finstock wasn't lying. This cabin had a fantastic view of the lake.

“So, what do you recommend as my first foray into summer resort activities?” Stiles questioned, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. 

Scott shrugged one well muscled shoulder. “There's not a lot going on tonight. They're playing scrabble in the west hall later. The good stuff doesn't kick off until tomorrow.”

“What's tomorrow?” Stiles asked, forever curious about everything ever.

“Finstock throws a summer kick-off dinner to mark the official start of the season.” Scott explained in between gulps of water. “There's food, and music, and dancing, and shit.”

“Dancing?” Stiles cringed. 

Dancing was not the best idea for the uncoordinated.

Scott flashed another of his grins. “I know it sounds lame but it's always a pretty good time.”

“But dancing?”

Scott laughed, the sound warm and rumbling. “There's always dancing.”

__________________________________________________________________

Stiles decided that taking a mini tour of the resort was something that needed to be done. He's gotta get the lay of the land after all. If he's spending the entire summer here he needs to know what kind of entertainment this place has to offer.

So, he pulled on a sweater and took off toward the main building. The grounds were quiet, only a few people scattered around the lawn. Stiles nodded and mumbled hello to the people he passed as he followed the stepping stone path up the hill. He reached the wrap around porch of the massive building unaccosted and he was about to let himself into the rec hall when the sound of a raised voice caught his attention. Curious as ever, Stiles tiptoed toward a door that was hanging slightly ajar. Peeking inside he could see Finstock surrounded by a group of guys, all around Stiles and Isaac's ages. Half of them were wearing the dressy uniform Stiles knows is for the waiters since he saw them at lunch and the other half were wearing green shirts with tan shorts. Stiles guessed that the ones in green are the activity directors. Finstock's voice raised another decibel so Stiles tuned in.

“You guys are reasonably intelligent, right? So, can someone explain to me why I have to tell you this again? Keep your fingers outta the water, your hair outta the soup, and show the God damned daughters a good time. Or the sons.” Finstock added, getting a beaming smile in response from one of the twins Isaac had noticed earlier. Both twins were wearing the white jacket, black slack combo that denoted their positions as waiters.

“Shlep them out to the terrace.” Finstock continued his rant. “Show them the stars. Romance them anyway you want. Flirt with them a little. Make them happy, keep them that way, and their parents will stick around.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. Seriously with this? 

“You guys got that?” Snarked a rich, growly voice from someone Stiles couldn't see from his position.

“Hold it, wise ass!” Finstock shouted, jabbing his finger towards where the voice was coming from. “That doesn't mean you, Hale. You've got your own rules. Dance with the kids. Teach them the mambo, the cha-cha, anything they pay for. But that's it. That's where it ends! No funny business, no conversations. You keep all of your moves on the dance floor or, so help me, I'll have your balls.”

“You got it, Coach.” The voice drawled sarcastically.

Stiles was impressed. He could practically taste the sarcasm from across the lodge. 

“I mean it!” Finstock yelled. “I catch you so much as looking sideways at a guest and you're out of here.”

The proclamation is followed by tense silence and Stiles kind of feels bad for the guy bearing the brunt of the coach's abuse.

“Hey, coach.” A massive guy with dark skin called just as Finstock was about to leave the group. “Conversation is off the table but getting a little in the woods is still totally okay, right?”

“Watch it, Boyd!” Finstock snapped. He glanced around the room seemingly challenging another one of them to open their mouths.“What are you waiting for?” Finstock asked sharply when no one else spoke up, his gaze sweeping the small crowd of young men. “Get back to work!”

Stiles watched him storm off in the opposite direction.

“You hear that, Hale?” One of the twins stood up and started rearranging the place settings on the nearest table. Stiles couldn't be positive but thought this wasn't the twin that had smiled at Finstock a few minutes before. “Keep it in your pants for once.”

 _“Douche-canoe.”_ Stiles quickly decided.

“That's hilarious coming from you, Aiden.” said the growly, sexily sarcastic voice from before. “Tell me again why Lydia tried to break your nose?”

“Who gives a fuck?” Douche-canoe bit out. “All the talent in this dump right now? I'll be swimming in it by morning.”

Someone shifted and suddenly Stiles caught a glimpse of the growly voiced guy. Stiles knows this because the dude was glaring something fierce at Douche-canoe, his impressive eyebrows drawn together in ill-concealed rage. It took Stiles all of five seconds to take inventory of the guy. All six foot of him. Hale was a masterpiece of well formed muscle and dark shadows. His hair was jet black, his cheekbones sharply defined even beneath the matching stubble. His eyes were covered by the heavily tinted lenses of his sunglasses which Stiles found oddly disappointing. Hale's clothes matched his apparent color scheme; Tight black jeans, tighter black cotton t-shirt with the sleeves flipped up a few times. 

The twin, Aiden, didn't flinch when Hale took a step toward him. Instead, he kept talking. “Just remember what Finstock said. You think you can keep it straight? What you can and cannot lay your paws on?”

“Don't worry about me, college boy.” Hale laughed darkly as he slung a leather jacket, black of course, over one shoulder. “Just stay the hell away from my partner.” 

With that, he turned smoothly on his heel and strode away. Aiden watched him go, anger glittering in his eyes.

___________________________________

At dinner the following night Stiles watched with apprehension as Aiden not so subtly flirted with Isaac while he waited their table. The sheriff eyeballed Aiden warily but didn't comment. Claudia smiled warmly at him when he poured her wine, thanking him politely. Stiles wanted to warn his brother what an asshole Aiden seemed to be but he barely opened his mouth to speak when he was interrupted by Finstock approaching their table to chat with John and Claudia.

Stiles watched Isaac purposefully ignore Aiden, which predictably only made him try harder. Isaac was a pro at flirting. The guy never met a person he couldn't charm the pants off of. 

Stiles picked up the thread of conversation between his parents and his coach just in time to hear Finstock introduce his nephew, Jackson. 

“It's nice to meet you, Jackson.” Claudia lets him press a chaste kiss to the back of her hand. “These are my sons, Isaac and Stiles.” She indicated each of them as she said their names. 

Isaac shook Jackson's hand while Stiles lifted his chin in greeting.

“Jackson's attending Harvard this fall.” Finstock practically preened, slinging an arm around his nephew's shoulder. 

“Nice.” Isaac grinned. He jerked a thumb at his own chest. “I'm in my last year at Cornell.”

“What about you, Stiles?” Jackson inquired, his sharp blue eyes fixing on Stiles' own honey brown ones.

John answered before Stiles could open his mouth. “He's attending Columbia.” The sheriff slapped Stiles proudly on the shoulder.

Stiles' chest clenched again but he made himself nod his agreement, a tight smile stretched across his face. Jackson's eyes lingered just a second too long on Stiles, appraising, before he seemed to decide something.

“Stiles,” He smiled “would you care to join me for a dance?”

Stiles glanced to his father for a rescue but the sheriff wasn't going to help him out this time. He and Finstock were buddies so John had no problem pushing Stiles to accept the invitation. 

“Sure.” Stiles nodded.

That's how Stiles ended up with Jackson's hands sliding lower over his waist as they shuffled around the dance floor. Stiles wriggled a little, trying to get the guy to take the hint. Instead, he managed to bump his mother with his hip, knocking her off balance for a second before his father caught her. Claudia patted Stiles' cheek gently before John swung her away. 

Stiles couldn't help but smile at his parents as they danced away. He'd never seen a couple more perfectly suited to one another than John and Claudia Stilinski. Married for nearly thirty years, they were still as in love as the day they'd said “I do.”. Sure, they fought and raised their voices but the fights always ended with them making up and cuddling close on the sofa in their living room with a bottle of his dad's favorite whiskey. They burned brightly, all passion and a mutual desire to argue just for arguments sake. Somehow it worked for them.

“It keeps us honest.” Claudia had told Stiles once.

“So.” Jackson called loudly, trying to be heard over the music thrumming through the speakers in every corner of the room and radiating live from the band on the stage. "Columbia?”

Stiles nodded absently. “Columbia.” He agreed, catching Isaac and Aiden dancing together on the outside edge of the room. "Law school, eventually."

“I guess the desire to serve justice runs in the family.”

“It must have skipped Isaac.” Stiles joked blandly. “He's studying medicine at Cornell, like our mother.”

“Your mom is a nurse, isn't she?” Jackson raised a brow.

Stiles growled under his breath. He genuinely hated when people assumed that because she was a female his mother was a nurse. “She went to Cornell.” he repeated, struggling to keep his tone neutral. “She's a pediatrician.”

Jackson shrugged, nonplussed. Thankfully, the song ended and Stiles was able to disengage so he could clap for the band. The band struck up another song, this one a mamba style tune. A ripple ran through the crowd a half beat before Hale sauntered out onto the floor, a strawberry-blonde goddess on his arm. He was dressed in black again, except this time he wore tight slacks with a sports jacket over a deep gray button-up. The woman on his arm was stunning in a pastel pink dress, its full skirt flowing around her but stopping well above her knees. 

The crowd parted without hesitation, allowing the pair the center of the floor. Every eye in the room followed them as they glided across the floor, moving together in seamless perfection. Their bodies slid together then apart with practiced grace. Stiles watched in awe, his eyes drinking in every sway of their hips, every move of their long legs. When the goddess hitched one leg up over Hale's shoulder and he dragged her across the floor on a single pointed toe Stiles could feel the temperature in the room ratchet up about a hundred degrees. He swallowed thickly, cursing the blush he knew would be creeping up his neck even though no one could possibly know he was thinking of how perfectly the two dancers would move together under much more intimate circumstances. 

“Who's that?” Stiles decided to ask. 

Jackson's eyes narrow a fraction when he answers. “That's Derek Hale and Lydia Martin. They're here to keep the guests entertained.” he explained, his tone dripping with condescension. “They teach dance. They shouldn't be showing off with each other, though. That's not going to sell lessons.” 

Letting his eyes slide back to the duo Stiles watched them, mesmerized once more. The way they fit together, the way their bodies flowed in perfect synchronization. It was fluid and graceful and Stiles' couldn't seem to breathe.

He cleared his throat. “I think I'm gonna go get some air.” he shouted to Jackson. Without waiting for a response, Stiles hurried for the door.


	2. Color Me Confused

The cool night air felt amazing on Stiles' heated skin. Outside of the overly warm dance hall he finally managed to draw a breath. His lungs drank in the air, his heart rate settling into a steadier tempo. Stiles shook his head in an attempt to clear the image of Lydia wrapped around Derek from his mind's eye. Heaving a resigned sigh he decided that a walk might help burn off some of the restless energy his body was generating. 

Stiles took a right turn away from the main building and headed for the path he could make out under the light of the nearly full moon. The path disappeared into the trees after about fifty feet. Stiles figured that would grant him some semblance of privacy in which he could attempt to dispel the buzzing under his skin and the overwhelming thoughts in his head. He traveled the path for a few minutes, his thoughts skipping from one thing to another in rapid succession. Somehow though, they stubbornly veered back towards tall, dark, and stubbly every few minutes. 

The path began to slope upwards after a couple of yards. Stiles noted a sign announcing that he was entering the staff quarters which he of course firmly ignored. He could hear music carrying down from further up the hill, the beat heavy and throbbing. The curiosity center of his brain lit up bright and insistent. Who was he to deny his brain?

So he set off in the direction of the music. He was so busy listening hard to follow the sounds of an electric guitar that he didn't hear the footsteps coming up behind him until a hand clamped onto his shoulder. Stiles spun on his heel, a totally manly and not at all frightened yip escaping his lips.

“Jesus dude!” Stiles huffed a strangled laugh when his eyes landed on Scott and a blonde girl he didn't know. “Warn a guy.”

“What the hell are you even doing up here?” the blonde asked, one hand on her cocked hip, the other supporting half the weight of the keg suspended between herself and Scott.

Stiles hoped his cheeks didn't color as the memory of Derek and Lydia's dance flew to the surface.

“Erica, it's okay.” Scott interjected. “This is Stiles. He's cool.”

If the look in her eye was any indication she absolutely did not believe that. “That doesn't answer my question.” Erica lifted one sassy, perfectly shaped eyebrow.

Stiles cleared his throat. “I was just going for a walk. It got a little stuffy back there.” He jerked his head back toward the lodge.

Erica grinned at that, the curve of her mouth almost feral. “That's right. We saw you dancing with the little boss man.”

“Saw that, huh?” Stiles sighed. “His uncle is friends with my dad. I kinda didn't have a whole lotta say in the matter.”

Scott smiled sympathetically.

Erica's gaze was intense as she scanned Stiles from the tips of his artfully messy hair to the soles of his black and white Converse. “He get handsy with you too?” she finally asked. 

“Yes! God, what is with that?” Stiles exclaimed. 

Erica and Scott both chuckled. They exchanged a look that Stiles couldn't begin to decipher. Apparently it worked for them because without even speaking they seemed to settle whatever debate they were having. 

“Come on.” Scott motioned with his free hand toward the direction of the still pulsing music.

“Let me take that.” Stiles insisted to Erica, pointing at the keg and the handle she was holding. She narrowed her eyes for a second but lowered it to the ground for Stiles to pick up. 

“Where are we going?” Stiles inquired as he and Scott hoisted the heavy metal barrel. They started up the path again, Erica falling into step beside Stiles.

“Can you keep a secret?” Erica questioned, side-eyeing him carefully.

Stiles nodded immediately. “Absolutely. Champion secret keeper right here.”

Erica rolled her eyes. “Good. Because you're parents will kill you.”

“And Finstock will kill us.” Scott added.

Stiles nodded again using his widest eyes and most innocent expression to convince them he was worthy.

Erica laughed and bumped his shoulder. As they walked the volume of the music increased letting Stiles know they were close to wherever it was they were headed. Scott and Stiles carried the keg up a staircase while Erica led the way. Stiles would be lying if he said that Erica's jean-clad ass wasn't a hell of a view to follow. 

They reached a heavy wooden door that rested on a track like the doors some barns had. Erica stopped in front of the door and grabbed the handle, sliding it open. The sound of a thumping base line flooded out onto the deck along with the smell of cigarettes, sweat, and pot smoke. Stiles wrinkled his nose, at which Erica laughed lightly. Stiles let his eyes sweep over the spacious room beyond the doors. He wasn't surprised to find the space full of people, though he was maybe a little surprised to see what most of them were doing.

Stiles had seen this kind of dancing before. He'd been to clubs and parties back home with his friends. He was familiar with the writhe and sway of bodies, the push and pull of hips and hands. But when his parents had told him they were going to Finstock's resort for the summer seeing this kind of club-like scene was the last thing Stiles expected.

His face must have registered his surprise because now Erica and Scott were both chuckling. 

“It's just dancing, Stiles.” Erica teased, taking his free hand to pull him deeper into the room. She guided him through the throng of bodies until they reached the other side of the space and a clearing for Stiles and Scott to set down the keg. Stiles straightened up and glanced around. He caught sight of Boyd just as Erica introduced them.

“Stiles, this is Boyd.” Stiles shook the hand Boyd extended. “Boyd, Stiles.”

“Nice to meet you, man.” Stiles raised his voice to be heard over the music. 

“You too. Want a beer?” Boyd asked as he turned to tap the keg.

“Yeah. Thanks.” 

While Boyd pumped pressure into the keg Stiles returned his attention to the dance floor. He recognized a few of the grinding bodies, having seen them around over the last two days. It took him a second to realize that all of them were employees. Stiles was in fact the only guest in the whole room.

“Not many guests get to see this, huh?” Stiles called over his shoulder.

“None, actually.” Scott informed him, coming to stand beside him and offering him a cup.

Stiles took a long sip before he responded. “Never?”

“Nope.” Boyd called in passing as Erica dragged him out into the sea of people.

Stiles grinned at them when Erica plastered herself against Boyd's chest and swiveled her hips into his.

“Can you imagine them dancing like that on the main floor?” Stiles asked.

Scott's laugh boomed even over the sound of the techno beat now blasting through the room. “Are you kidding? The home of the electric slide and the Macarena? Finstock's head would explode.”

Just as Stiles was about to respond he was distracted by Derek and Lydia making their entrance. Lydia was still rocking her pink dress but Derek lost the jacket and button up somewhere along the course of the evening. He's in just a black t-shirt now. Of course Stiles'd been naïve to assume Derek and Lydia wouldn't be there. This was a staff event and they were staff. Stiles should have known he'd see them here eventually. He watched them greet their friends and then slip seamlessly into a dance. Derek hauled Lydia to his chest, his fingers splaying wide over the small of her back. He dipped her backwards, his hands on her body keeping her pelvis pressed flush to his. Stiles swallowed roughly as Lydia's hair hung nearly to the floor and her entire body rolled in one smooth movement. Derek pulled her back up, her forehead stopping just short of colliding with his. They grinned into each other's eyes as Lydia's arms circled Derek's neck, her chest pushing into his.

Scott followed Stiles gaze and grinned. “That's my cousin, Derek.” he told Stiles. “He's the one who got me the job here.”

“They look great together.” Stiles admitted, trying to make sure his voice came out steady and even.

Scott looked back to where they were dancing, one of Lydia's thighs draped over Derek's hip. “Yeah, they do. You'd think they were a couple from the way they move.”

That made Stiles' head whip around, his eyes finally tearing away from the pair. “They're not?”

“Nah.” Scott shook his shaggy head. “Not since we were kids. They dated in high school but broke up in their junior year. Lydia's his best friend now.”

Stiles turned back to them just in time to see Derek plant a leg between Lydia's legs for her to grind on. Lydia slid down to the floor then arched her back and rode Derek's leg back up.

“That's one hell of a best friend.” Stiles mumbled to himself. 

When the song ended Lydia spun out of Derek's arms and slipped away. Stiles tried to watch as covertly as he could while Derek danced his way through the crowd. He stopped along the way to talk to a few people, shaking hands with some, grinding his hips in time with others. Stiles had to look away when Derek lifted an arm to spin Erica out and his shirt rode up to expose a thin strip of tan skin.

Stiles and Scott were immersed in a heated discussion about who was the better superhero, Superman or Batman (with an argument being made for Robert Downey Jr's Iron Man) when Derek glided up, bumping Scott with his hip

“Hey cuz.” Derek jerked his chin at Stiles, his scowl never slipping. “What's he doing here?”

“He came with me and Erica.” Scott explained, his brows furrowing quizzically like he didn't understand the question. 

“I helped carry a keg.” Stiles blurted then promptly regretted it when Derek's eyes met his. _“Smooth Stilinski. Smooth.”_ Stiles mentally kicked himself.

And, Holy mother _fuck_ were those eyes beautiful. Stiles was pretty sure he'd never actually seen that color in nature before. It was an impossible shade of green, somehow watery and vibrant in equal measure. There was a fierceness in them that made sparks cascade down Stiles' spine. There was also a warmth hidden in their depths, something that Stiles was sure was for Scott. 

“You do know that he's a sheriff's kid, right?” Derek turned back to Scott, effectively ignoring Stiles.

Scott nodded. “He's cool, Derek. No worries.”

Before Stiles could ask how Derek knew who his father was the older man was already melting back into the crowd, finding Lydia easily and pulling her back into his arms. Stiles just gaped, utterly confused. 

“What the fuck just happened?” Stiles asked more to himself than anything.

Scott grinned goofily beside him. “He's always like that. Plus, like I said, no guests are ever allowed up here.” 

Twenty minutes and two beers later Stiles was feeling comfortable in his skin again. The buzzing from before had calmed to a gentle hum and the flush on his skin was from the warmth of the room and the alcohol he'd consumed instead of embarrassment. Stiles was talking to Erica, Scott having slipped away to dance with a pretty brunette he'd introduced as Allison. Erica was in the middle of explaining why Catwoman was most definitely better than Poison Ivy when Stiles caught sight of Derek coming towards them. Erica quirked a brow at him and turned to see what he was looking at. Stiles thought he heard her giggle under her breath. 

Derek stopped right in front of Stiles and crooked one long, wide finger at him, beckoning him forward with a cocky grin. Stiles swallowed thickly, his eyes darting from the tip of Derek's finger to the mysterious green of his eyes. Stiles didn't miss the almost challenging set of Derek's impressive brows. He glanced pleadingly at Erica in the hopes that she would save him from making a total fool out of himself in front of the hottest guy he'd ever met but she only swiped his beer from his hand and nudged him forward. Stiles stumbled a little but quickly righted himself. Derek extended a hand and Stiles slipped his own into it. Derek led him through the crowd to the near center of the floor. He stopped and turned to face Stiles, putting a good foot of space between them. Stiles was confused until Derek reached out with both hands to grip his waist and apply pressure to them until Stiles bent his knees and sank down a little. Derek moved his hands to Stiles' shoulders, again pressing them down. 

“Good.” Derek nodded. “Now watch.” He moved his hips in slow circle, his spine curving and his shoulders tipping back. 

Stiles looked around him for something, anything, to distract him from the heat inducing sight before him even as he tried to copy Derek's movements. Derek pressed a hand to Stiles' hip to draw his attention back.

“Watch me.” Derek ordered, pointing two finger towards his face. “Watch my eyes.”

Stiles did as he was told, meeting Derek's steady gaze with determination even though his heart was pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears. 

Derek's lips curled a little at the corners. “Good.” he praised. “That's better.” He stepped in closer to Stiles. He slotted one leg between Stiles' thighs and guided him forward with a palm pressed to the curve of his spine. Stiles let Derek press their pelvises together, let him guide his movements as their hips moved together.

“That's right.” Derek took a step back. “Now roll this way.” He reversed the direction of his hips. 

Stiles duplicated the movement more smoothly than he had before. His heart was still thundering in his ears but he thought he was at least managing to follow Derek's instruction well enough. 

“Alright, now both.” Derek showed Stiles how to switch back and forth between one direction and the other. When he apparently approved of the results he pulled Stiles back into chest and rolled their hips together. Stiles wasn't at all confident that he managed to stifle the gasp he let out when Derek slipped his leg back between Stiles' thighs and thrust his hips forward. Derek grinned as he let his hand dip to the small of Stiles' back, his pinky just brushing the waistband of his jeans. Stiles can't help but grin back and let Derek pull his arms up to drape them around his own shoulders. Stiles took the initiative and cupped his hands on the back of Derek's neck. Derek's eyes darkened a shade and he pressed Stiles more snugly against him. They moved together, bodies flush and sweat-slicked, never breaking eye contact even when only a breath's distance away from one another.

The song was hitting its final notes when Derek disentangled himself and spun Stiles out. When Stiles turned back, grinning widely, Derek was already gone. He'd melted into the crowd leaving Stiles breathless and buzzing in the middle of the dance floor.

 

______________________________________________

The next morning Stiles decided a dip in the lake was exactly what he needed to get his equilibrium back. Since the second he'd laid eyes on Derek fucking Hale he felt like he was balancing on the edge of razor blade. He was positive that no matter which way he inevitably fell he was going to be the one to end up cut to ribbons. It was just the way things were for him. He was the type to jump first, ask questions later. It had been the catalyst for every one of his broken hearts.

Stiles made his way to the beach and spread a towel out over a warm stretch of sand. He stripped off his t-shirt, flung it down on the towel, stepped out of his flip flops, and loped to the water's edge. He dipped his toes into the lake's sun-warmed water and wiggled them. He was grateful that while there were a lot of people on the beach, there weren't many in the water. With a roll of his shoulders Stiles walked forward, not stopping until the water was lapping at his ribs. He let his fingers trail through the water, arcing out around him in a semi-circle in either direction. He lowered himself into the lake slowly, sinking beneath the surface. Surrounded by the silence Stiles tried to silence his racing brain. If he could just get his mind to stop conjuring memories of the way it felt to be pressed up against Derek, the sensation of Derek's thumb sliding down his spine, of Derek's skin under his fingers... 

Stiles popped out of the water, frustration making him mutter angrily under his breath. He swam laps out by the ropes, arms slicing through the water and propelling him forward. When his arms started to ache and his lungs were burning with effort he hauled himself out of the lake and threw himself down on his towel. He buried his face in the crook of his elbow and muffled the expletives that poured out of his mouth.

“Jesus Stiles, there are kids around.” said a now familiar female voice. 

Stiles glanced up to find Erica crouched down beside his head, her cut off denim shorts showing off long tan legs and her blue bikini top showing off everything else. 

“Trust me.” Stiles grumbled. “Half of these kids already know way worse than what I just said.”

Erica chuckled then plopped down in the sand. “What's up, Batman? You cursing someone in particular or the world in general?”

“Myself mostly.” Stiles admitted, rolling onto his back.

“Don't curse at you.” Erica reprimanded, slapping him on the chest. “I enjoy you. Curse at someone we don't like. Curse at Jackson!”

Stiles laughed despite his mood. 

Erica grinned. “Come on.” She stood up and brushed the sand from her ass. “I've got the day off and I haven't had breakfast yet.”

Stiles dutifully climbed to his feet just as Isaac came jogging up the beach. “Hey!” he called out when he spotted Stiles. 

“My brother.” Stiles told Erica while Isaac finished making his way toward them. “Isaac, this is Erica. Erica, Isaac.”

“Hey.” Isaac smiled at Erica. 

“Hey. Big brother or little brother?” Erica asked Stiles. 

“Older brother.” Stiles explained. “He's 26.”

Erica lifted a questioning brow. “How old are you?” 

“18.” 

“Oh, thank god.” Erica pressed a hand over her heart. “Thought I was gonna go to jail for lusting over a minor.”

Stiles barked a laugh while Isaac looked confusedly between them. “Ooookay...” he snorted. “Stiles, can you do me a favor?”

“Depends. If it involves me having to lie to a your girlfriend so you can make out with her brother, you can count me out.”

“That was one time!” Isaac whisper-shouted indignantly. Erica laughed hard at them. “And she should have known better. Her brother could be Kit Harington's identical twin. God himself wouldn't have blamed me for that.”

“He's got a point.” Erica nodded her agreement. 

“Fine. What do you need?” Stiles relented. 

“If Mom and Dad ask I didn't feel well when you saw me this morning and I'm staying in the cabin while you guys go to dinner.” 

“When in reality you feel fine and will be where?” Stiles asked.

“Taking a night hike with a friend.” Isaac answered evasively.

“Do I even want to ask?” 

“Probably not.” Isaac beamed. “Thanks bro.” 

Stiles and Erica watched him jog away. “Your family's got some good genes.” Erica observed.

“Down girl.” Stiles snorted as he pushed her towards his cabin. “Come on. I gotta change and drop off all this sand.” He brandished his towel.

“So, did you have fun last night?” Erica asked while they traipsed along the beach. 

Stiles fought his blush with everything he had. “Yeah, it was a good time.”

“You're not bad, you know.” Erica told him, swiveling her hips to indicate his dancing. “You've got a natural rhythm.”

“If flailing and tripping over your own feet can be considered rhythm then hell yeah I do.” 

“I didn't see any flailing. And you only tripped once!” Erica argued. “You seemed like you really had it down when you were dancing with Derek.”

Stiles couldn't have stopped the curl of his lips if he'd wanted to. “You think?”

“Trust me, Stiles. I teach dance.” Erica reminded him. “You are far from the worst I've ever seen.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Wow. A compliment of the highest order.”

“Shut up.” Erica bumped him with her shoulder.

After a quick change of clothes Stiles and Erica made their way up to main lodge. Erica looped her arm through his and tugged him toward an empty table. As soon as they sat down a brown haired Hawaiian god approached their table, smiling in a way that made his cheeks dimple adorably.

“Hey, Erica. What can I get you?” he asked, pouring water from a pitcher into their glasses.

“Danny, my darling, I am in need of the biggest cup of coffee you can find.” Erica told him. “And a blueberry muffin. Stiles?” She turned her eyes back to him.

“Coffee is good.” Stiles said, smiling up at Danny, who nodded and went to fill their order. “Is everybody here ridiculously attractive? Is it like a prerequisite for employment? 'Must be hella sexy to work at the Redwood'.” Stiles babbled.

“Yup. It's the first question on the application. 'Where do you land on a scale of Steve Buscemi to Ryan Reynolds?'.” 

Stiles nearly choked on his water. Erica giggled, proud of herself. 

As Stiles was wiping water from his chin with the back of his hand he saw Derek out of the corner of his eye. He was leaned up against the far wall with his head bowed in close so he could speak quietly with Lydia. She handed him something and he gave her a lingering kiss to the corner of her lips and then graced her with a warm smile. Stiles looked away quickly, his stomach falling at the sight. Scott had said Derek and Lydia weren't a couple but maybe he was wrong. That kiss seemed to send a pretty clear signal. When Stiles glanced back Derek was walking away and Lydia was glancing around the room. Her eyes fell on their table and before Stiles could look away she was headed right for them.

“Heads up.” Stiles nodded toward Lydia.

Erica turned around to see what Stiles was talking about but she grinned when she spotted the redhead. “Hey you.” Erica called when Lydia was within speaking distance.

Lydia smiled but Stiles thought it seemed a little fragile. 

“Do you want to join us?” Erica asked.

“Sure.” Lydia slid into one of the two empty chairs. Her eyes fell on Stiles and he saw a flash of recognition in them. She didn't say anything, though. Instead, she subtly angled her body towards Erica. 

“Oh, you guys haven't met yet.” Erica remembered. “Lydia this is Stiles. Scott and I have adopted him for the summer. Stiles, this is Lydia. She's the best dancer this place has ever seen.”

“I saw you last night.” Stiles told Lydia. “You're an amazing dancer.”

“Yeah well, my mother kicked me out when I was 16 and the family that took me in was big on dancing. The mother made sure I learned so that I had a skill to fall back on.” Lydia said. 

“I'm too uncoordinated to move like you do. I'm so jealous.” Stiles remarked honestly.

Lydia made a scoffing sound in the back of her throat and shifted her eyes back to Erica. “I gotta go.” she announced. Without another word she got up and left the table.

Stiles' mouth worked uselessly, not a single word managing to form on his tongue. For the second time in less than twenty-four hours Stiles had no idea what the hell just happened.

“Don't worry about it.” Erica shrugged. “Oh, look. Coffee!”


	3. Mistaken Assumptions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is me warning you for intoxicated decision making. 
> 
> If you need context and don't mind a small spoiler in the process, check the end notes.

Stiles and Erica spent the rest of their day around the lake. They swam for a while, splashing each other like toddlers and cheating at Marco Polo. Stiles tossed Erica playfully when she tried to pants him under the water. Boyd joined them for a while after his shift finished and they sprawled out on the sand to soak up the sun. Erica sat nestled between Boyd's legs while Stiles stretched out nearby, digging his toes into the sand lazily. 

Stiles was enjoying himself so thoroughly that he was startled when he checked his phone and discovered it was nearly 6 o'clock.

“Shit.” he groused while clamoring to his feet. “I gotta go get ready for dinner.” 

“Have fun with your boyfriend.” Erica smirked.

Stiles flipped her off. “I swear to God, Erica. If Jackson tries to feel me up again I'll find a way to pin his murder on you.”

Erica's cackle followed him halfway to his cabin. 

Stiles took a quick shower to wash away the sand and sunscreen. When he walked back into the room he shared with Isaac he found his brother propped up with his laptop open and playing an old episode of The X-Files. 

“Trying to give yourself nightmares?” Stiles taunted as he scrubbed a towel over his brown strands. 

“Bite me.” Isaac grinned. His expression changed after a second, shifting into curiosity with just an edge of teasing. “Hey, are you gonna tell me where you were until 3 o'clock this morning?”

“With Scott and Erica.” Stiles hedged. Isaac lifted a suggestive brow. “Not like that! Get your mind out of the gutter, dude.” Stiles threw his towel at him. “We were just hanging out.” 

“Whatever you say, baby brother.” Isaac put his palms up in surrender, though the teasing grin stayed firmly in place. 

Stiles went back to the bathroom with his clothes in tow and changed quickly. Once dressed in charcoal gray slacks and a baby blue button-up (per his mother's request) he arranged his hair into an acceptable shape and headed out to meet his parents on the deck.

“Where's your brother?” Claudia questioned, looking behind Stiles as though Isaac were hiding at his back.

“He's not feeling well.” Stiles lied smoothly. “He's gonna sit this one out.”

The sheriff looked skeptical but didn't comment. The man knew his boys. His mother's eyes took on the shadow of concern that mothers sometimes get but she nodded. “It's better that he stay in bed, then.” she said as she slipped an arm through her husband's. 

Stiles trailed along behind them as they made their way up to the main dining hall. Stiles was quiet all through dinner, his mind traitorously conjuring memories of Derek pressing him to the solid wall of his chest. Memories of the way it felt to straddle Derek's thigh and grind against the jut of his pelvis. The memory of Derek kissing Lydia in the dining hall. Memories of Derek's cocky smirk and ethereal green eyes. Of the way Stiles' heart had squeezed behind his ribs when Derek focused those eyes solely on him.

“Stiles?” John snapped his fingers near his ear, startling him back to the present.

“Sorry.” Stiles frowned. 

“Is everything alright, sweetheart?” His mother queried gently.

“Fine.” Stiles assured them. “Everything's fine. I just got distracted.”

“Are you ready to head over to the pavilion? I'm sure Jackson will be there.” John dropped the name too casually, as though it would be an enticement to Stiles rather than the deterrent it truly was. 

Stiles noticed for the first time that his parents had finished eating while he had just been pushing carrots around his plate. “Yeah, totally. Let's go.” If his words sounded a little too forced and stiff it was only to his own ears. 

As soon as they arrived John swept Claudia out onto the dance floor. Stiles leaned up against a post and shoved his hands into his pockets, letting his eyes scan over the crowd. He was absolutely not looking for Derek. He wasn't. He was keeping an eye out so he could avoid Jackson. That's all he was doing and nobody could prove otherwise.

It was sheer coincidence that his eyes happened to land on Derek, who was dancing a few feet away with a woman a few years younger than Claudia, who Stiles thought looked vaguely familiar. She was pretty, what with the wavy golden hair that brushed the middle of her back and the heart-shaped face that grinned seductively. Stiles tried not to feel jealous of the way she clung to Derek like they were the only two in the room. For his part, Derek seemed to be enjoying himself. Though, maybe he seemed a little uncomfortable with the very public display of interest, if not intent. Really, the interaction only served to further confuse Stiles over Derek's romantic status.

“Hey!” 

Stiles turned to find Scott coming towards him. 

“Hey, Scotty.” Stiles fist bumped him when he got within reach. “You here for the rave?” He tipped his head toward the floor where an elderly man was attempting what Stiles thought was probably supposed to be a moonwalk. 

Scott laughed heartily. “I'm just here to play DJ.”

“You mean you're subjecting me to this horror on purpose?!” Stiles asked, affronted for the entirety of the room's ears.

“Hell no.” Scott shook his head. “Finstock lets Jackson pick the music for shit like this. But, me and Erica are the only ones who know how to work the equipment.” he explained, shrugging apologetically. 

Stiles cringed at the overplayed pop song that filtered through the speakers. “It somehow makes complete sense that Jackson is the one who picks the tunes. He seems like the type who'd enjoy torture.”

Scott chuckled and let his eyes slide over the room. He groaned. 

“What?” Stiles asked, following Scott's gaze.

“You see the lady Derek's dancing with?” Scott nodded toward them. Stiles nodded but didn't tell Scott he'd been noticing her for the last twenty minutes. “That's Kate Argent. Remember the girl Allison that I introduced you to last night?” 

Stiles nodded again. Allison was the gorgeous brunette Scott had danced with. She had high, round cheekbones and a cute smile. 

“Kate is her aunt.” Scott explained. “Allison's dad, Chris, doesn't like leaving her here by herself all week, so Kate looks after her while he works. He comes up on the weekends to spend time with Allison.”

“So what's the problem?” Stiles didn't understand Scott's reaction to Kate. He seemed annoyed with her.

“Kate has a thing for Derek. Allison has asked her about a thousand times to be subtle about it since Allison works here. She teaches archery.” Scott added when Stiles looked like he was about to ask. “Kate's a guest but everyone knows she's Allison's aunt. Nobody would dare say a word to Kate, but Allison gets shit for it all the time.”

“So, Kate and Derek...” Stiles let the sentence trail off. 

Scott shrugged. “I genuinely have no idea. Allison said that there's some kind of history there but when I asked Derek he just blew me off. They look a little friendly though, huh?”

Stiles snorted attractively. “A little?”

Scott glanced over at the people in question just in time to see Kate lean in close to whisper in Derek's ear. “Well, Allison's gonna be pissed.” Scott sighed. He turned back to Stiles. “Anyway, I better get back to the booth. See you later.”

Stiles reached out to pat Scott's shoulder as he passed, though his eyes remained fixed on the pair in question. He watched Kate's hand slide low over Derek's back but looked away before she actually reached his ass. With a frustrated groan Stiles made his way over to where his parents were talking to Finstock. 

Claudia turned her attention to her son as soon as he approached them. “You okay, sweetheart?” She reached a hand out to run the back of her hand over his reddened cheeks, her eyes soft but probing. 

“It's a little crowded up here.” Stiles couldn't resist the urge to lean into his mother's touch. “I was just going to take a walk down to the docks to clear my head.”

“If you're sure.” Claudia ran her fingers though the hair behind his ear. 

“I'll go with him.” Stiles snapped his head in the direction of the voice, wondering how in the hell he had missed Jackson standing beside his uncle. “You shouldn't be wandering around alone if you're not feeling well.” Jackson donned his best sympathetic face. 

“It's fine, really.” Stiles shook his head, his gut already clenching at the thought of being alone with Jackson. “I just need a few minutes.”

“Stiles.” The sheriff reprimanded, his eyebrows drawing together over a frown. 

Stiles sighed, his chest squeezing around his lungs, but he nodded. “Yeah, okay. Thanks, Jackson.”

He let Jackson slip an arm around his waist and lead him from the pavilion. Stiles kept his head down, his eyes looking everywhere but at the blonde beside him. He didn't look up to see if Derek was still dancing with Kate or if he was watching Stiles leave with Jackson. Stiles very studiously ignored the way his parents grinned at their retreating backs. He did, however, spare an eye roll when he caught Scott's eye on their way past the DJ table. Scott chuckled but the look in his eye told Stiles he knew how much this was the last place on earth Stiles wanted to be. 

On their way through the main hall Jackson managed to snag a bottle of tequila from the bar, unnoticed. Stiles grinned genuinely at Jackson when he brandished his pilfered prize. Maybe this wouldn't turn into the train-wreck event Stiles was dreading, after all. 

Jackson grabbed Stiles by the hand and led him down the hill toward the lake and then out to the end of one of the docks. He kicked off his shoes before settling on the edge of the wooden planks and sticking his feet into the water. He motioned for Stiles to follow suit while he cracked the seal on the bottle. Once Stiles was settled beside him, Jackson offered him the bottle. Stiles took it silently, allowing himself a long draught before he handed it back. The two of them sat quietly, neither feeling the desire to speak, preferring to let the lapping of the water at the shoreline do all the talking as they continued to pass the bottle between themselves. It was Stiles, of course, who broke the silence first.

“You have terrible taste in music, dude.” he blurted. It wasn't what he meant to say, but it's what found its way past his lips.

Instead of being offended, Jackson laughed heartily and fixed his gaze on the moonlight reflecting off the lake. “Trust me when I tell you that what Scott plays is the best of the shit selection my uncle lets me choose from.”

Stiles couldn't help but grin at that. “I'd hate to see what songs get vetoed.” 

“Far too much Lady Gaga and yet, somehow, not nearly enough.” Jackson smirked at Stiles as he passed him the bottle. The expression didn't hold any of Jackson's usual air of superiority. Instead, it was bordering on warm and genuinely amused.

Stiles laughed out loud, shaking his head in disbelief. Who'd have thought that underneath all that carefully coiffed hair and douchebaggery a sense of humor lurked, unnoticed. “You should throw in some Slipknot. Really confuse the hell out of him.”

“And screw with the perfection he's managed to portray?” Jackson snorted. “He'd have an aneurism.” 

“You don't seem to mind screwing with perfection when you're getting handsy on the dance floor.” Stiles pointed out. When Jackson raised a mocking eyebrow, he replayed the words in his head. “Oh. Yeah, that's totally not what I meant.” He corrected. “Not perfection as in _me_. I'm nowhere near mildly acceptable, much less perfect. Ask my parents. Hell, ask my brother. I'm like the adorable puppy with ADD that you can't help but smile at because he's just kind of stumbling through life, trying not to knock over his puppy friends in the process.” Stiles shrugged as if the self deprecation didn't actually mean anything. “I meant perfection as in the image The Redwood has carefully cultivated.”

Jackson studied him for a long moment, his sharp blue eyes seeing more of Stiles than he was strictly comfortable with. Damn tequila for making his mouth take his thoughts and run. And, seriously? Damn Jackson for being an actual human being underneath the gloss and pompous asshole-itude. Stiles shifted uneasily under the scrutiny, lifting the bottle to his lips once more. 

“I'm the type of person that if I see something I want, I go after it.” Jackson let his eyes sweep over Stiles. “I never saw the point in playing games or pretending that I'm not interested. It's better to be upfront about what I'm after than to act like I don't want what I want. Wires get crossed and shit gets confused. Why bother?”

Stiles was shocked at how willing Jackson was to admit that. Not just that he was a straight forward kind of guy, going after what he wants, but that he was actually interested in _Stiles_. 

Stiles opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by the sound of his brother's angry voice carrying up from the beach behind them. From where they were sitting Stiles and Jackson could see Isaac trudging through the water, soaked and pissed. Aiden was stalking behind him, hauling a canoe and seemingly amused. 

“I don't hear an apology, Aiden.” Isaac growled from the beach, his dark blonde curls plastered flat against his head, his blue eyes sparking angrily. 

“You're not going to, either.” Aiden shoved the canoe onto the sand and walked away. “Learn to take a joke, Isaac.”

“How is me ending up in the lake, fully dressed and unaware, a joke?” Isaac asked, shoving Aiden's shoulder hard. 

“Don't be such a pussy, Isaac.” Aiden shoved him back. Isaac stumbled but kept his footing. 

Stiles made to get up and intervene but Jackson grabbed his hand and kept him seated. 

“God, you're such an asshole.” Isaac huffed. He jumped on Aiden's back, wrapping his legs around his waist and tugging roughly at his hair.

Stiles' tightly coiled muscles relaxed a little when he saw Isaac press his lips to Aiden's neck. “Leave it to Isaac.” he mumbled, watching Aiden carry Isaac the rest of the way to the path leading up toward the cabins.

“You don't want to get involved in that.” Jackson jerked his chin towards the retreating couple. “Aiden may be a colossal bag of dicks but something tells me that Isaac is into that kind of thing.”

Stiles snorted, returning his gaze to Jackson's face. “A family trait, apparently.” He smiled at Jackson, knowing that if it weren't for the alcohol in his system he'd have bailed out by now.

Jackson's eyes fell to Stiles' mouth. “Are you trying to tell me that I'm a colossal bag of dicks, too?” he asked, his gaze flitting back and forth between Stiles' lips and his eyes.

“Not colossal.” Stiles shrugged one shoulder and leaned forward. “A medium sized bag of dicks, maybe. Economy sized at most.” 

Jackson's chuckle was swallowed by Stiles pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his lips. He was expecting it, though, and his hands found their way to settle on Stiles' waist even as Stiles' hands buried themselves in Jackson's hair. Their tongues met in the middle, sliding together with the taste of tequila between them. It was a nice kiss. Nothing explosive or earth-shattering about it, but it was nice.

Stiles pulled away first, his head swimming a little. “A rocking dock and a half a bottle of tequila make for some oddly wavy thoughts.” he murmured.

Jackson laughed but climbed to his feet, offering Stiles a hand up. “Come on. Let's get you something to eat.”

Stiles frowned, his lips curling downward in a pout but slipped his hand into Jackson's. “You're gonna make me eat tiny party food?”

Jackson pulled him to his feet. “Nah. I've got free run of the kitchens.”

Stiles threw his arms around around Jackson's neck. “You're my hero. Don't let it go to your head.” 

“Noted.” Jackson chuckled.

\----------------------------------------

Stiles sat at the stainless steel island in the middle of the kitchen, fed and content. Jackson had fixed them sandwiches with a side of chips and Stiles was feeling a little more steady after having eaten it. Most of the swaying sensation had left his limbs, leaving him more solid and unwavering on his seat. 

He watched Jackson move around the large, industrial kitchen with the assured confidence of someone who was comfortable in the space. He put their dishes in the dishwasher before leaning on his elbows on the island.

“You want to come back to my cabin?” Jackson offered. “We don't have to screw around if you don't want to. I just got the new CoD.”

Stiles considered his options briefly before agreeing. “Sure, why not? It's better than spending the rest of the night trapped in that pavilion with my parents and all their good intentions.” Stiles looked around him. “Is there a bathroom around here?”

“Just outside that door.” Jackson pointed. “Take a left and it's the first door on your right.”

Stiles shuffled out into the hall and followed Jackson's directions. He had his hand poised to open the door when a quiet sniffling sound reached his ears, halting him in his tracks. He argued with himself for all of five seconds before he decided to investigate. Making his way further down the hall, he slowed when he neared the corner. He peeked silently around the corner, trying his best to stay hidden from view of whoever was crying on the other side. He was surprised to see Lydia curled against the wall, her red hair flowing over her knees, her arms holding her legs tightly to her chest. She was obviously upset, her face tear-stained and red-streaked.

Stiles knew that his presence wouldn't comfort her. In fact, he suspected it would only serve to upset her further. He wasn't sure why but he knew she wasn't his number one fan. So, instead, Stiles hurried back to the kitchen. He found Jackson leaning against the far wall. 

“Hey, do you mind if I take a rain check on tonight?” he asked, already steering Jackson out of the kitchen and back towards the paths. “I really should go check in with Isaac before our parents get back.”

“Yeah, I guess. Just remember what I said, okay? If Isaac is into that whole dickhead-type, there isn't much you can do.” Jackson let Stiles pull him toward where the path's forked off. 

Stiles knew that the staff's living quarters were off to the west, along with Finstock's own cabin much further up the mountain. Stiles assumed Jackson's cabin was somewhere on that side of the resort, as well. The path back toward the guest cabins and the main buildings was pointed north-east, in the opposite direction. 

“I know.” Stiles easily agreed. “I just want to make sure everything's good.”

Jackson nodded his understanding. “Meet me for lunch tomorrow?”

“I'll see what I can do.” Stiles pecked a quick kiss to his cheek and then tore off down the path. 

He followed it until it forked off again and then veered to the left. He ran until he caught sight of the pavilion in the distance, still lit up with twinkling lights. He slowed to a jog when he reached the stairs, careful to keep himself out of his parents line of sight. He found Scott behind the DJ table.

“Well, you don't look like you've been mauled.” Scott grinned. His face fell quickly, his brows drawing together in concern when he took in the expression Stiles wore. “Dude, what's wrong?”

“It's Lydia.” Stiles explained in a rush. “I just saw her. She seemed really upset and she was crying. I figured you and Derek would know what to do.”

Stiles watched Scott weave his way across the dance floor to find Derek. Derek let Scott pull him aside, and Stiles saw Scott speak in a hushed but hurried manner. Derek's expression shifted into one of deep concern as he listened. His eyes met Stiles across the floor and he cut his way through the crowd to reach him, Scott right on his heels.

“Where?” Derek demanded.

“In the hallway behind the staff kitchen.” Stiles tipped his head in that general direction.

Without another word, Derek strode away, his long, powerful legs eating up the distance faster than Stiles could track. Scott pulled Stiles along behind him until he got the idea that he was supposed to follow. 

“What's going on?” Stiles asked Scott when they caught up to Derek. “Do you know what's wrong with her?”

Scott looked from Stiles to Derek and back. He seemed to make a choice. “Lydia's pregnant.”

Stiles feet stopped of their own accord and his momentum made him sway forward. The air rushed from his lung in a single gust. 

Derek stopped then, too, his expression dark. “Scott!” he scolded. 

“What? He's not gonna tell anybody, Derek.” Scott defended, crossing his arms over his wide chest. 

“She doesn't want anyone to know.” Derek narrowed his eyes. 

“She doesn't or you don't?” Stiles snarked. Let no one ever say sarcasm wasn't a viable defense. “Maybe you don't want everyone to find out you knocked up your partner.” 

If possible Derek's expression darkened further. His eyes sharpened dangerously, his mouth turning into a flat, grim line. “Of course you think it's mine. You hear Lydia's pregnant and right away you think it's mine. Well you know what, Stiles? Fuck you.”

Stiles' mouth fell open in silent protest at Derek's retreating back. He wanted to take it back, to remove his foot from his mouth, but Derek didn't give him a chance. He was already running up the path, with Scott right behind him. Stiles hurried to catch up, all the while berating himself for jumping to the wrong conclusion, for letting jealousy make him say things he knew he shouldn't. 

Derek stopped outside the entrance to the building, making a gesture for Stiles to lead the way. Stiles ducked through the door and ushered both of them through the kitchen, out into the hallway. He stopped when he reached the corner, pointing around it for Derek and Scott to precede him. Stiles hung back and watched Derek fall to his knees beside the redhead. 

“It's alright, Lyds.” Derek murmured as he slipped his arms beneath his partner and hauled her to his chest. “I'm right here. I've got you, okay?”

Lydia wrapped her arms around his neck fiercely, sobs overtaking her tiny frame with renewed strength. “Derek.” she cried. “Oh God, Derek.”

“Shh.” Derek stood, taking her with him. He tucked her body against his and carried her bridal style back toward the kitchen. “It's all gonna be alright. I've got you now.”

Stiles watched Derek carry her through the kitchen. Scott stopped to grab a bottle of scotch from one of the shelves in a pantry Stiles hadn't noticed before, and then gestured for Stiles to follow. 

Stiles didn't notice that they'd somehow reached the open space where Erica and Scott had brought him that first night. The room seemed much larger now with only the four of them inside. Derek settled Lydia on a couch on one side of the room, wrapping a soft purple blanket over her shoulders before taking the chair directly beside it. Scott found a couple of glasses somewhere and poured out two drinks. He handed one to Derek and one to Lydia, then sat down beside the latter. Stiles watched numbly as Lydia sipped from the glass and Derek scrubbed a hand over his face. 

“What did you think you were doing, Lydia?” Derek asked, his voice heavy and tired. “You're in trouble, you talk to me, and I'll take care of it. You should have come to me in the first place.”

“Forget it, Derek.” Lydia clasped both hands around the drink she was holding. “I'm not taking what's left of your salary.”

“That's not up to you!” Derek protested.

“It wouldn't be enough anyway.” Lydia sighed, running a shaking hand through her disheveled hair. “It's hopeless.”

“Don't say that.” Stiles took a few steps forward, inserting himself into the conversation. All three of them looked his way. “You'll figure something out. There's gotta be something you can do. There's always a way.”

“Stiles, right? That's your name?” Lydia asked. Stiles nodded. “Well you know what, Stiles? You don't know shit about my problems.”

Scott looked down at his feet before saying softly, “I told him.”

“Damn it, Scott!” Lydia slapped him roughly on the chest. “He's gonna run and tell his little management boyfriend and then we're all gonna get fired. Why not just shout it over the intercom, 'Lydia got knocked up by Aiden the asshole.'!”

“Aiden? The waiter?” Stiles asked incredulously. 

“Look-” Derek began heatedly, surging to his feet. 

He was interrupted by Scott leaping up from his perch beside Lydia. “No!” He put a hand out to halt Derek. Then, he turned to Stiles. “Look, Stiles. One of the councilors, Greenberg, knows a doctor. A real M.D. who's just passing through El Lobo next week. He performs abortions for women without health insurance. We can get Lydia an appointment with him, but it'll cost about $500.”

Stiles blinked at them. “I'm sure if you tell Aiden-”

“He knows!” Lydia yelled, her eyes watering anew. “He already knows, Stiles. He just doesn't care.” She sipped from her drink, her hands shaking as she lifted the glass to her lips. “Look kid, go back to your universe of rainbows and unicorns, will you?”

Stiles looked to Scott, who could only nod. He refused to look at Derek, refused to see the dismissal in his eyes. Feeling annoyed at being deemed a child, and frustrated that no one was willing to let him help, Stiles did what Lydia asked.

He simply walked away.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles kisses Jackson while under the influence of tequila.


	4. Either The Best Or The Absolute Worst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of abortion in this chapter.

The next morning, before Isaac had even begun stirring in his bed on the opposite side of their shared room, Stiles showered, dressed, and dragged himself up the hill toward the dining hall. He found Aiden pulling a cart along behind him as he set tables with place settings. Stiles sidled up to the cart, grabbed a pitcher of ice water and started filling the glasses Aiden set out.

Aiden's brow furrowed in question. “If this is about Isaac-”

“It's not.” Stiles cut him off. “This is about Lydia.”

Aiden looked further confused for a moment before his expression cleared and a smirk twisted his mouth. “Hey, kid. If you want to tap that you don't have to clear it with me. But, let me give you some advice: Wrap it up. Otherwise, you'll be the next one she tries to pin a kid on.”

Anger flooded through Stiles, his skin heating with the implication behind Aiden's words. “You're a dick, you know that?”

Aiden glanced up from the fork he'd just placed. Stiles could see that he was trying to figure out exactly what Stiles' problem was. “So, I've heard. Look, I don't know what your issue is-”

Stiles stepped closer, lowering his voice and cutting Aiden off once more, his tone taking on the edge of anger mirrored in his gaze. “My issue is that you seem to be incapable of taking responsibility for your own actions! Lydia is pregnant and afraid. She's not asking you to be a father, Aiden. She's not asking you to do anything other than to help her do what she thinks is best. You can't just wash your hands of this.”

Aiden's face darkened, his eyes narrowing lethally. If Stiles were a different kind of guy he might have backed down. “Who the fuck are you to tell me what I can and can't do? Why should I do anything to help her? I don't even know that the kid is mine! Lydia's probably slept with half the guys at this resort.”

Stiles had a moment's hesitation where he wondered if Aiden could be right. After all, he knew Lydia better than Stiles did. Stiles had only just met her. And, really, it wasn't like they were friends. Lydia seemed to dislike him, even if he wasn't sure why. Stiles didn't want to analyze too closely why he felt loyalty to a woman who'd seemingly rather dance barefoot on tacks than befriend him. It's just the kind of person Stiles was, the kind of person his parents had raised him to be. If a person needed help, he would do everything he could to be that help. 

Besides, Aiden was a douche-canoe. As he demonstrated by continuing, “She's just another chick from the streets trying to fuck her way up the food chain. She knows I'm going to med school next year and she saw an opportunity. Face it, Stiles. Lydia's a nobody. People like her just don't matter in the grand scheme of things.”

Stiles closed the remaining distance between them, rage bubbling beneath his skin as he got right in Aiden's face. “You are a disgusting excuse for a human being. Stay away from my brother, Aiden. I'm not sure if you know this, but my father, the sheriff, is old buddies with Finstock. Getting your ass kicked out of this resort would be the best thing I could do with my summer.” To punctuate his threat, Stiles dumped the remainder of ice water in the pitcher he held down the front of Aiden's uniform pants. “Enjoy the rest of your day.” He sneered.

Without looking back, Stiles left the dining hall in search of his father.

______________________________________________________

Stiles found the sheriff sitting in a canvas camping chair, fishing along the shore of the lake just a few yards away from their cabin. John looked up when he heard his son's approaching footsteps. 

“Hey, kiddo.” The sheriff smiled fondly. “Want to join your old man?” He pointed to the spare fishing rod lying on the ground next to him. 

Stiles plopped down on a patch of grass, baited his hook from the can of nightcrawlers his father had brought along, and cast his line. They sat together in companionable silence while Stiles gathered up the courage to broach the subject he'd come to discuss. 

“Dad.” Stiles began. The sheriff hummed in response, tilting his head toward his son but not looking away from the lake. “Do you remember when Isaac and I were little, and Mrs. Giuseppe's dog got loose?”

John's chuckle brought a grin to Stiles face. “Oh, I remember alright.” The sheriff shook his head. “You two came home in tatters after spending the whole afternoon chasing that damn dog through the woods behind the neighborhood. Isaac had twigs and leaves stuck in his hair, you fell somewhere along the way and the entire seat of your pants was caked with mud. You were both all scratched to hell, but you came home beaming.”

“And you told us how proud you were that we spent an entire day of our spring vacation helping someone in need, even though we didn't have to.” Stiles continued.

John nodded. “You two were just kids. I know adults that can't be bothered to help someone unless there's something in it for them. I was damn proud of you boys that day.”

Warmth filled Stiles' chest. “You always told us that if someone needed help we should do everything we could to help them.”

John smiled down at his son. “It's a lesson you always took to heart.”

Stiles took a deep breath. “Which is why I need to ask you if I can borrow $500. I swear to God I'll pay you back!” 

John's smile shifted into an open mouthed, shocked expression. “Why- What on earth do you need $500 for, Stiles? Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“It's not for me, Dad.” Stiles hurried to reassure. “I'm not in trouble, I swear. I'm just trying to help a friend.”

John angled himself toward Stiles, his keen blue eyes searching his son's face. “It's not illegal is it?”

Stiles swallowed thickly. Technically, abortion was legal in California, had been for a while. But under these circumstances, with a doctor performing the procedure under the table, not reporting the procedure on medical record... That was very much illegal.

“Of course not, Dad.” Stiles lied, trying to keep his face blank and free of the deception.

John contemplated Stiles for a few seconds before his concerned brows seemed to relax. “Are you sure that you're not in trouble, son?”

Stiles nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

The sheriff returned the nod. “Alright then.” He reeled in his line as he spoke. “Want to take the ride into town with me? We can grab breakfast after I hit the ATM.”

Stiles felt his muscles relax, a broad, genuine grin turning up his lips. “Sure, Dad. Thanks.”

_______________________________________________________________________________________

When he stepped foot into the loft space that night his heart was skipping irregularly with every step, his pulse pounding in his ears and drowning out the music throbbing around the space. Stiles wound his way through the writhing mass of bodies, nodding and waving at Erica and Boyd as he passed them. He found Derek and Lydia on the far side of the large space, dancing a few feet away from Scott and Allison. Stiles watched Derek's hands while he made his way toward them. They were wide and capable, his fingers thick and dexterous as they splayed out in the center of Lydia's back. Stiles was fascinated by the way Derek's digits slid over the exposed skin offered up by the low-cut back of Lydia's dress.

Shaking his head to clear away the thought of those fingers sliding over his own skin, Stiles ducked around Lydia to tap her shoulder. She swung her eyes around to his face at the same moment as Derek. Stiles faltered under their combined gazes, Lydia's exasperated and defensive, Derek's guarded but maybe a little curious. Stiles was sure he was imagining the way Derek's body shifted toward him, infinitesimally. 

Mustering up every ounce of courage, Stiles thrust an envelope at Lydia. “Here.”

Her delicate eyebrows curved down and together as she automatically put a hand out to take what Stiles was offering. “What's this?” she asked, puzzled.

Derek glanced between the two of them, his expression undefinable. Scott and Allison moved closer at the same time Erica and Boyd reached them.

“It's the money you needed.” Stiles muttered awkwardly, unsure how many of the people watching them were aware of Lydia's situation. 

Lydia's eyes widened incredulously. “Aiden?” 

Stiles blushed, shaking his head. “No. You were right about him. Guy's a total asshole.”

“Then where...?” Lydia questioned, turning the envelope over in her hand as the rest of the group closed in around them.

“Don't worry about that.” Stiles shrugged. “The important thing is that you have the money now.”

Derek's eyes were dark as he lifted the beer in his free hand to his lips. Lydia stared, her lips parted in surprise and confusion. She looked to Derek, who was resolutely looking anywhere but at Stiles. 

“Is this kid serious?” Lydia balked.

“Takes a real saint to run and ask Daddy.” Derek rolled his eyes, sipping from his bottle. 

Stiles felt embarrassment curl in his gut, making his cheeks flame brighter. 

Lydia looked down at the envelope in her hand, her fingers tightening for a second before she thrust it back into Stiles' chest. “Thanks, Stiles, but I can't use it.”

Derek and Scott both gave her a look that said they couldn't believe she just did that. 

“What?” Derek let Lydia pull him a few feet away from the rest of the group. She wrapped both of her arms around his neck, resting her chin on his shoulder. “What are you doing, Lydia? You should take the money!” Stiles heard Derek scold her quietly. 

Scott moved to Stiles' side, leaning in close and lowering his voice so that only their group could hear him. “Erica could only get her an appointment for Thursday.” He started to explain. “They do their act at The Preserve on Thursday night.” Scott's eyes flicked over to Derek and Lydia. “If they cancel, they lose this season's salary and next year's contract.”

“What's The Preserve?” Stiles asked.

“It's another hotel.” Allison threw in. “Derek and Lydia do a really amazing mambo act over there.”

Stiles didn't see the problem. “Can't someone else fill in?”

“No, Mr. Fix-it.” Derek told him darkly, coming out of nowhere and planting himself right in front of Stiles. He took Stiles by surprise, having moved closer while he was distracted. “Someone else _can't_ fill in. Allison has to work all day and doesn't have time to learn the routine, and Erica has to fill in for Lydia. Everybody works here, Stiles.” When Stiles didn't instantly offer back a barbed retort Derek looked him up and down, his eyes burning holes through Stiles' skin. “Why? You wanna do it?” Derek arched a brow. “You wanna take time out of screwing around on the beach and hanging out with your boyfriend?”

Stiles shot him a dirty look, not bothering to correct him, though the mere idea of dancing with Derek again sent a shiver of arousal down his spine. 

“It's not a _bad_ idea.” Scott tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans, shrugging. Allison nodded her agreement, her cheeks dimpling adorably.

“I was joking, Scott.” Derek bit out.

“He can move.” Erica offered, speaking up. “The boy's got lean hips and smooth rotations. He could learn.”

Stiles felt like he was being pinned to the floor by the eyes swinging his way. Lydia looked at him thoughtfully. He wondered if she could hear the way his heart was pounding against his rib cage.

“No.” Derek denied, his tone rigid. “It was just a fucking joke.”

“I can't even do the merengue.” Stiles tossed out hurriedly, unsure if anyone was even listening to him at that point. 

“See?” Derek lifted a hand in his direction as if to say “Told you so”.

“Derek, you're a strong partner.” Lydia told him, her eyes nearly pleading as she grasped his hand. “You can lead anybody!”

“But, you heard him!” Derek argued, the words coming out laced with desperation. “He can't even do the merengue. He can't do it! He can not do it.”

“ _He_ is standing right fucking here.” Stiles nearly growled, for a moment forgetting that he was terrified of Derek in a way that confused the hell out of him. All six of his companions turned to stare at him. “Look, I'm not a huge fan of this idea, either.” Stiles met Derek's eyes boldly. “But, if it means that Lydia can go to her appointment, I'll do it.”

“This isn't some half-assed dance in your school gym, Stiles.” Derek sighed, knowing that he was right. Lydia getting to that appointment was the only thing that really mattered. His own feelings didn't factor into the equation, no matter how jumbled and confused those feelings might be.“There's only six weeks until then. Do you honestly think you can learn an entire routine by then?”

Stiles nodded, straightening his spine and lifting his shoulders defiantly. “When do we start?”

_____________________________________________________

The answer to that question turned out to be “Right fucking now”. Or, sort of, anyway.

Rather than Derek being the one to drag Stiles out onto the dance floor, Erica did the honors.

“We can start with getting you comfortable in your own body.” Erica pulled Stiles across the room. She stopped when she found a space big enough for them to maneuver in freely. She turned to face Stiles, who was distracted by Derek, Lydia, and Scott leaning their heads together and talking lowly. “Stiles!” Erica waved her palm past his face.

Stiles startled, tearing his gaze away from the trio. “What?”

Erica feigned annoyance but Stiles could tell that she was amused. “We're supposed to be dancing.” she reminded him.

“I'm afraid Boyd will tear my head off my shoulders.” Stiles grinned widely down at Erica.

“Shut up.” Erica slapped him playfully. “Boyd doesn't care who I dance with. That healthy dose of fear will serve you well with him, though.” She winked.

Stiles chuckled and let Erica drag him against her. Pressed snugly to her chest, her body flush against his from chest to thigh, Stiles couldn't concentrate on anything other than the way she moved against him. His hands spread wide at the base of her spine while hers curled around the back of his neck. Erica smirked salaciously and then swung her hips in a wide arc, forcing Stiles' hips to follow hers. 

“Your rotations are smooth,” Erica repeated what she'd said to Derek, “but they're too tight. You need to loosen up a little.”

Stiles had to laugh at that. “I've spent my entire life having people tell me to get more control over my flailing limbs and now you want me to let it go?”

“Your body has a lot of frenetic energy.” Erica rocked her pelvis forward, urging Stiles to rock back. “If you can learn how to focus that, how to harness it, your movements will be more fluid.”

Stiles let her guide him. She stopped using her words, instead using her body to direct his movements. He had to turn on his tunnel vision, reigning in the constant rush of thoughts so that he could pay attention to the subtle way she directed him. When he focused all of his attention on the points where her body connected to his he found himself responding easily to the commands her body was broadcasting. 

With the slight pressure at the base of his spine Stiles knew she wanted him to roll his torso forward. The way she pushed forward told Stiles that she wanted him to step back. The dip of her waist told him that she wanted him to dip with her. When she squeezed her thighs around one of his and leaned heavily back into his hands Stiles knew she wanted him to hold her up so she could fall away from him. He watched, enraptured, at the way her hair dragged along the floor and the apex of her thighs fit perfectly into the notch of his hip. With the barest hint of pressure at his wrist Stiles knew she wanted him to pull her back to him. 

Erica grinned, threading her fingers into his hair, satisfaction glowing in her golden eyes. “See? He's a quick study.” Stiles' wide smile slipped and he tilted his head in question. Erica's grin intensified as her eyes left his and settled on something directly behind him. 

Stiles craned his head around, a deep pool of anticipation sloshing around inside him. He didn't even have to look to know who would be standing there. His heart still skipped in its hummingbird rhythm when he caught Derek's impossible green eyes. Stiles was determined to figure out how on earth the man's eyes could be that particular shade of devastation. 

“This may not be the complete disaster I was expecting.” Derek let his eyes rake over the length of Stiles' body. Erica was right. Stiles had lean hips, though Derek knew for a fact that his trim waist flared into a gentle curve on the downward slope to those hips. His hands had surreptitiously traced the path when he'd had Stiles in his arms two nights before, on this very dance floor. 

Stiles had to be imagining the heated look Derek gave him before he managed to shutter it. With a cocky grin of his own, Stiles realized that Erica was still wrapped around him, her hips perfectly aligned with his own. Feeling emboldened, Stiles continued to move with her, hips swaying and dipping in synchronization with the beat of some thumping bassline. Erica was all too happy to indulge him.

“Eventually, we're going to have to actually dance _together_. You do realize that, right?” Stiles taunted Derek while spinning Erica out.

Derek caught her around the waist, swinging her into his chest. Without so much as a trace of hesitation Erica let him lift her, wrapping her legs around his waist. Derek gripped her hips as she bowed backwards toward the floor, swooping between his spread legs. Stiles was caught off guard when Erica disappeared between Derek's knees rather than reappearing. Glancing behind Derek, Stiles saw Boyd twirling Erica into his massive chest.

“Huh.” Stiles was impressed with the move. “Way to knock me off my lofty perch.” 

Derek chuckled, _legitimately chuckled_ , at that. “If you can perform this routine in six weeks I'll let you preen to your heart's content. Until then,” Derek reached out blindingly fast, his fingers grasping Stiles around the hip, and pulled him into his body, “you have a lot to learn.” He might regret the flirtation later, but the almost daring quirk to Stiles' mouth had Derek's brain coming up with all kinds of regrettable ideas. Molding Stiles' body firmly to his own seemed like the lesser of all the current evils.

Stiles gulped audibly and the predatory gleam in Derek's eye sparkled with devilish satisfaction. So, maybe he hadn't completely imagined the way Derek had been eyeing him. Maybe Stiles wasn't the only one effected by the way their bodies seemed to react to one another. Maybe this whole dancing thing was actually going to be much more dangerous than Stiles had been counting on.

Through the nervous lump in his throat, Stiles made his lips move, forced his mouth to make with the sounds. “Clearly.” he croaked.


	5. Almost Doesn't Count

Stiles is the type of guy that's generally fine with admitting when he's wrong. Typically, he has no problem saying he made a mistake or misjudged a situation. And, when he thought that learning Derek and Lydia's routine would be relatively easy, he was a whole other level of wrong. Like, broccoli flavored ice cream, wrong. Skipping the ninth doctor, wrong. 

Normally, he'd admit that he made an incorrect assumption, reevaluate the situation and correct his position. However, something about the way Derek smirked at him, sort of superior and more than a little judgmental, made Stiles rethink admitting anything of the sort. The judgey eyebrows don't help either, if he's being honest. If anything, the way Derek looked at him made Stiles want to try that much harder to prove himself capable.

Derek knew that Stiles was struggling. He could feel it in the way Stiles was holding back, reluctant to release the tense set of his wide shoulders or the rigid line of his spine. Derek could feel the muscles of Stiles' torso bunch and strain under his fingertips when he tried to teach Stiles how to follow his lead. He was relatively sure Stiles was resisting, his need to argue for arguments sake so deeply ingrained that he did it without thinking. The way Stiles was clenching his jaw, grinding his teeth stubbornly, made Derek wonder if his teeth could stand up to the abuse. Lydia may have overestimated Derek's ability to lead _anyone_. 

He wasn't actively trying to be an ass with Stiles, though. Derek just couldn't help but be amused by the cute little wrinkle Stiles' brow formed over the bridge of his nose when he was trying his hardest to concentrate. He also couldn't help the way his own brows arched in response to the way Stiles mumbled under his breath, scolding himself and cursing Derek with equal fervor. 

“You're trying too hard.” Derek told Stiles for the tenth time in nearly as many minutes. “I told you, this dance is more than just a set of steps, a routine to follow. You have to feel the music, Stiles. Get out of your own head.”

“Easy for you to say.” Stiles grumbled to himself. After all, Derek wasn't the one who was trying to learn a complicated dance routine while simultaneously trying his damnedest not to fall flat on his face and embarrass himself in front of the hottest guy north of Hades. 

“Come here.” Derek held a hand out to Stiles, lifting an impatient brow when the younger man hesitated. 

Stiles relented and moved closer, slipping his hand into Derek's waiting palm. Derek pulled him forward and positioned his body how he wanted it, draping one of Stiles' hands over his shoulder and holding the other in his palm. Once Stiles had the right frame, one of Derek's hands flicked out, using a small remote to reset the music flowing into the loft from his iPod. 

“You don't step on the one.” Derek reminded Stiles, his pale green eyes shifting back to meet whiskey brown ones. “Wait for the two, okay? Find the two and start on it.”

Stiles nodded determinedly. “Okay.”

The music kicked in and immediately Stiles made to step forward, forgetting to wait for the second beat. 

“Damn it, Stiles.” Derek scolded, hand flicking out once again to pause the music. He slipped the remote into the pocket of his track pants and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. Stiles tried desperately not to notice how sexy Derek was when his hair was tousled and missing its usual product. “It's one, two, three, four.” Derek counted the steps, trying to keep the sharpness out of his voice. “One, two, three, four. The music starts but you don't dance until the two. Got it?”

Stiles nodded again, his pulse jumping nervously in his throat. He couldn't help it. Derek made him nervous without even touching him and they'd already been at this for nearly two hours. A good portion of that time Derek's hands had been all over him, trying to direct his body the way he wanted it, pressing into his flesh insistently when Stiles flubbed a step. It made Stiles' skin itch and pull uncomfortably, feeling like it was stretched too tightly over his bones.

“Relax.” Derek coaxed. He tried to reign in a bit of his impatience, knowing it did little to help Stiles achieve that goal. “Just breathe.” Thinking that maybe giving Stiles room to move might ease some of his nerves, Derek stepped away. He hit play and music flooded into the space. 

“Keep your frame.” Derek reminded Stiles, eyes scanning over his body. He ignored the way his gut tightened when his gaze swept over the dip of Stiles' lower back then down, over the swell of his ass. 

The music kicked in and Stiles lifted his foot to step forward but caught himself before completing the move. Derek smiled softly to himself when Stiles corrected the move and stepped on the correct beat. 

“Good.” Derek told him, continuing to watch from a few feet away. “But don't lean back. Lift up and push your chest out.” Stiles did as Derek told him, but over-corrected. Derek moved forward to press one palm to the small of Stiles' back, the other flat over his belly while his feet kept time to the music. “Keep your spine straight, tilt your chin up, and your shoulders down.”

Stiles inhaled sharply at Derek's touch, the heat of his palm soaking into Stiles' skin even through the thin cotton of his Captain America t-shirt. His heart fluttered, his stomach swooping low and knotting in on itself. Jesus, but his body was quick to react to the slightest brush of Derek's hands. 

“Again.” Derek pressed lightly on his lower back, drawing Stiles' attention. “Concentrate.” He reminded Stiles, his tone accusatory, as though Stiles were purposefully ignoring his commands. 

“I'm trying, jackass.” Stiles' shoulders fell as he dropped his frame. “Has anyone ever told you that your presence is extremely distracting?”

Derek grinned, one half of his mouth quirking up. “I'm not trying to distract you, I'm trying to teach you.” 

“And I appreciate the hands-on approach to your teaching method.” Stiles smiled a crooked, obviously-amused-at-his-own-sense-of-humor grin and tilted his head sideways as he looked at Derek. “But, I can't concentrate with your hands all over me.”

Derek rolled his eyes in exasperation. No one else had to know that his breath caught a little in his throat at Stiles' words. No one at all. “You'd better get used to it.” Derek informed Stiles. “This routine kind of requires me to touch you.”

“Obviously.” Stiles drawled snarkily. “Could you at least try not to be so... you, while you do it?”

Derek snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. “You want me to be less 'me' when I touch you?” A dark thought snaked its way into Derek's mind, his mood souring almost instantly. “Would you prefer I be more Jackson, instead?”

Stiles gaped at him, his mouth popping open in surprise. “Dude, seriously?”

Derek scowled at him, refusing to let jealousy show on his face. He wasn't jealous anyway, damn it. He just didn't like the idea of Stiles thinking of someone else while he danced with Derek. His head needed to be here, not on his boyfriend. They weren't going to accomplish anything if Stiles' head wasn't in it.

Stiles' face scrunched up as if he were smelling something unpleasant or trying to work through a difficult math problem. “You're either entirely too dense for your own good, or just the most oblivious person I have ever met. Ever. And that's saying a lot, because my third grade teacher still has no idea that I was the one who kept letting the class rabbit out of its cage, even though he found carrot sticks in my desk on a regular basis.”

“What am I supposedly missing then, Stiles? Enlighten me.” Derek snapped, irritated. 

Stiles gave him a long, considering look before shaking his head and taking his frame back up, his spine going rod straight as his arms went up and into position. “You know what? No.” Stiles fixed his eyes forward, ignoring the way Derek's scowl deepened. “You can figure it out all on your own, Hale. Now, can we get on with this?”

Derek hesitated for a few seconds, unsure if he should say something to try and lower the wall Stiles seemed to be erecting between them. With a heavy sigh he decided it might be better this way. It might be easier on both of them if they just concentrated on getting through this performance and left it at that. 

“Fine.” Derek finally muttered and hit play.

__________________________________________________________

Six days later and Stiles was feeling a little more confident in his steps. He'd been spending every spare minute training, whether it be with Lydia, Erica, or Derek. He even found that he and Lydia got along well after they spent an entire afternoon training and trading high school horror stories. Stiles had most of the steps memorized but was still having trouble stringing them all together and making them look the way they were supposed to. Derek kept reminding him to relax and stop looking at his feet, Lydia prodded him sharply with her nails in his hip whenever he slipped in his counting and fucked up a step, and Erica was still working on getting him to loosen up and be comfortable in his own skin.

It was time for a session with Derek and Stiles was hiking up to the loft, counting out steps and practicing moves, when he crossed paths with Scott and... Aiden? 

“Heeeey...” Stiles eyed Scott, jerking his chin in question toward his companion. 

Scott frowned in confusion before understanding dawned on him. “Oh!” He chuckled. “No. Stiles, this is Ethan, Aiden's significantly less douchetastic brother.”

Oh, right. Stiles remembered seeing Ethan that first night, sitting with Aiden while Finstock hollered at the staff. “Hey, man.” Stiles reached a hand out to shake Ethan's. “Sorry.”

“Don't worry about it.” Ethan smiled. Now that Stiles was looking properly, he could see a few differences between the twins. Where Aiden was harder and more closed off, Ethan's face was a little softer, his expression open and friendly. “Stiles? You're Isaac's brother, right?”

“Guilty as charged.” Stiles grinned. 

“He's a good guy.” Ethan said. “I have no idea what he sees in my brother. Usually, I'm the only one who can even tolerate Aiden for any extended period of time. Well, me and Danny.”

“Yeah, but Danny's best friend is Jackson.” Scott added. “He's used to hanging out with assholes, got years of practice.”

They bullshitted for a few minutes until Stiles' phone vibrated in his pocket, alerting him to a text. He pulled the phone out to find a message from Derek, asking where he was. “Shit.” Stiles muttered. He could practically feel the annoyance pouring through his phone. “I gotta run, guys. It was nice to meet you, Ethan.” 

The three of them exchanged fist bumps before Stiles jogged off to meet Derek. He took the stairs up to the loft two at a time, and was a little winded by the time he burst through the door to find Derek stretching. Stiles froze, his eyes tracking down from the tips of Derek's fingers where they were stretched toward the ceiling, to the set of his feet, muscular legs spread wide apart. When Derek leaned forward, his palms planting flat on the ground, Stiles nearly choked on his tongue.

“Hey.” he called out, his voice strangled, to let Derek know he wasn't alone.

“You're late.” Derek called back, his tone sharp and clipped. Great.

Stiles deflated but moved forward into the room. “Sorry. I ran into Scott and Ethan on the way up and I lost track of time.”

“You have surprisingly little discipline for a sheriff's kid.” Derek informed him, standing upright and going to his iPod dock. 

“Hey!” Stiles said, affronted. “I have plenty of discipline, fuck you very much. I'm only ten minutes late and you're still stretching. The only person who misses out on anything in that equation is me, so quit your bitching.” 

Derek hit play, ignoring Stiles' ranting and the fact that he could definitely feel heat creeping up his neck at the casual way Stiles alluded to wanting to watch him stretch. “If you're not going to take this seriously, we're wasting our time here.” he said, instead.

Stiles went to stand in front of Derek, smiling despite the words he'd just thrown at him. Derek was beginning to learn that about Stiles. Even when his words were harsh, wrapped with barbed-wire, he was very rarely ever truly angry or upset. Stiles was sarcastic and sharp-tongued but he was honestly one of the most laid back people Derek had ever met. It seemed to take entirely too much effort to piss the guy off in any significant way.

“Alright, Hale.” Stiles rolled his shoulders as if that would actually help him lose some of the tension that inevitably filled his muscles when he was within twenty feet of Derek. “How do you want me?”

It was Derek's turn to experience tongue-in-throat issues. His mind flooded with images of Stiles asking that question while spread out beneath him, rich amber eyes glinting mischievously up at Derek through a thick fan of lashes while Derek took him apart, piece by piece. Derek coughed roughly to clear his throat before even attempting to speak normally. “Lydia's on her way, so we can just practice until she gets here.” he finally managed. 

Stiles' lips turned down in a frown. “Lydia's coming? I thought... Why?” 

Derek couldn't have heard disappointment in Stiles' words. They'd moved beyond the lingering friction of their spat nearly a week ago but, Stiles still seemed to be waiting for something and Derek had no idea what that might be. They'd been circling around each other for the last few days, both teetering on the edge of something neither of them understood.

“I thought it might be helpful to watch you do the steps with her so that I can get a sense of what you've got down and what we need to work on.” Derek explained.

At some point during their conversation they'd unconsciously moved into their starting positions. One of Derek's hands was settled on the curve of Stiles' hip, the other arm out and bent up, holding one of Stiles' hands in his palm. Stiles' second hand was resting lightly on Derek's shoulder, his long, tapered fingers curling over his back. Neither of them had consciously thought about their movements, and neither of them were brave enough to mention it.

Derek cleared his throat again and removed his hand from Stiles' hip just long enough to hit play on the remote in his pocket. The familiar strains of a Latin-infused beat flooded into the room. Out of habit, Stiles looked down at his feet while he waited for the right moment to move.

“Head up.” Derek reminded him. Stiles' head snapped up, his eyes automatically seeking Derek's. “Lock your frame. Lock it!” Derek lifted his shoulders to shrug off Stiles' hand. “Look. What are you, an octopus? You're all over the place, Stiles.” Derek's hands grasped Stiles' arms just below the elbows and lifted them, positioning them in a wide arc around them. “This is my dance space.” He gestured to half of the circle formed between himself and Stiles. “This is your dance space.” Derek indicated the other half. “I don't go into yours, you don't go into mine. You've gotta hold your frame. Again.”

Stiles took up the correct position and they started over. Derek had to remind Stiles of his frame once more, but Stiles still thought he managed the step better that time. 

“Don't put your heel down.” Derek instructed, watching the way Stiles' feet moved. Stiles redid the step, but Derek interrupted again. “Don't put your heel down, Stiles.”

“I didn't!” Stiles defended himself.

“Yes you did. Will you stop arguing and just listen to me?” Derek met his annoyed gaze. “You have to stay on your toes.”

“I was-” 

Derek cut him off, “Stop.” Derek took a step back and released Stiles. “Do it again.”

Stiles heaved a heavily put upon sigh but did as he was told. Derek watched him for a few moments before he paused the music and repositioned himself toe to toe with Stiles. “You're too tense, you're not listening.”

“I'm-”

“Feel the music.” Derek spoke over him. “I told you before, this dance is more than just learning a routine, more than just steps. It's a feeling... A heartbeat.” He lifted an open palm to his chest, letting it rest over his heart while his fingers tapped out a rhythm. Stiles mirrored Derek's position and tapped the beat out over his own heart. “Don't try so hard.” Derek shook his head and reached for Stiles' hand. He placed it over his own heart, covering it with his hand. “Close your eyes.”

Stiles did as Derek instructed and let his lids slip shut. He could feel Derek tapping out the beat of his heart on the back of Stiles' hand while his heart thumped beneath his palm. The steady, rhythmic pattern echoed in Stiles' chest, the sound ricocheting around inside him and leaving him feeling blindsided. 

“Breathe.” Derek reminded him. Stiles realized he'd been holding his breath and released it in a whoosh. Derek continued to tap out the beat, the rough pads of his fingers sending little shocks of sensation up Stiles' arm. “Feel that? That's what you should be listening too, Stiles.”

“Your heart?” Stiles asked feebly, opening his eyes and meeting Derek's strangely intense stare.

“No.” Derek murmured, the word coming out low and breathy. “Yours.”

A shiver ran up Stiles' spine, washing over his shoulders like a tidal wave. Goosebumps erupted up the back of his neck, cascading down his arms and making his fingertips tingle. His breath stuttered in his chest as his tongue darted out to moisten his lips. 

Derek's gaze dropped to Stiles' mouth, his eyes tracing the same path Stiles' tongue took. His gut tightened, his brain filling with fog while his heart filled with chaos. Stiles' lips were wet and glistening, taunting Derek to just lean forward and take what they were offering. Derek blinked, trying to clear his mind, but he was already moving closer. He was already dipping his head, his lips already humming in anticipation.

Of course, Lydia chose that moment to breeze in with an iced coffee for Stiles and a bottle of water for Derek. If she noticed the guilty way they jumped away from one another, she didn't mention it. “How's it going?” she asked, lifting her chin toward the make-shift dance floor and ignoring the charged air surrounding Stiles and Derek.

“I'm an octopus and Derek is a sourwolf.” Stiles informed her as he accepted the coffee she held out to him. He was proud of his voice for sounding steadier than he felt.

“He can't hold the frame properly.” Derek ground out, returning to his default setting. He ran a hand over his mouth, trying to wipe away the pins and needles that buzzed along the skin of his lips.

“Show me.” Lydia ordered, motioning the pair of them out onto the floor.

So, Derek and Stiles got back into position, pushing away thoughts of the moment that almost was. Lydia watched them for a few minutes, her assessing dark hazel eyes following their every step. After a few minutes of watchful silence, she fell in behind Stiles and lifted his arm at the elbow, making his angle sharper. Then, she fitted one hand around Stiles' hip with the other pressed flat between his shoulder blades. “Shoulders back.” She told him firmly, her breath whispering over his neck.

Stiles shivered, his skin already hypersensitive due to his proximity to Derek and the whatever-that-was moment that might have been, but did what she told him. The hand between his shoulder blades improved his posture, making him stand straighter. Lydia's hand at his hip loosened a little, to the point that she was just following the sway of his hips instead of being the one to guide their tempo. 

They practiced that way, all three of them moving together, until Lydia was convinced that Stiles could maintain his frame to Derek's satisfaction. She had to correct him a few times, adjusting his hands or arms and slowing the swing of his hips when he moved too fast to the beat.

There were several moments when Derek caught himself staring at Stiles, watching him bite his lip in concentration, or mapping the path a bead of sweat took as it slid down the length of his neck. When he realized what he was doing Derek snapped his eyes to Lydia's over Stiles' shoulder. If the cheeky grin Stiles wore were any indication, Derek's attention did not escape his notice. Derek absolutely did not blush when Stiles winked at him.

Eventually, Derek left Stiles to practice with Lydia while he parked his ass on a cushion on the floor and observed. With all of Stiles' attention on following Lydia's lead, Derek had a chance to just watch him. He took advantage of the moment, letting his eyes drift down Stiles' body, taking in every dip and defined line. Stiles was tall, barely an inch or two shorter than Derek, and lean. He had well sculpted muscles, visible even beneath the white a-shirt he'd stripped down to. Where Derek had bulk and bulges, Stiles was cut and firm, his body lithe but solid. Derek watched the way Stiles moved, enjoying the ripple and roll of his hips while he danced with Lydia. Stiles' movements were becoming smoother, more fluid. It was a definite improvement. Though, Derek couldn't help but notice that Stiles moved a little more loosely with Lydia. His body wasn't coiled as tightly, he wasn't as hesitant to meet Lydia's eye as he was Derek's. His face was more open and his smile reached his eyes when he was dancing with her instead of Derek. Derek didn't want to think too hard about why that bothered him so much.

“Ugh.” Stiles panted after another hour, throwing his sweat-drenched body down on the glossy hardwood floor. “You two are slave drivers. I'm like 98% sure that I'll need my legs later in life so, can we maybe throw in the towel for the night?”

“Does that mean you don't want to come to the party later?” Lydia lifted a shapely eyebrow at the starfishing teen.

Stiles bolted upright. “What party?”

Derek tried to stifle a laugh as he swiped a towel across his forehead and went for his water. He mostly failed. 

Lydia rolled her eyes at both of them. “The same kind of party you came to last time.” she said.

Stiles bit his lip while he contemplated it. Derek definitely didn't notice the way he sucked the plump pink skin between his teeth.

“Are you going?” Stiles asked Derek after a minute.

Derek shrugged, tearing his eyes away from Stiles' mouth. “Probably. I'm sure Scott and Erica will be there, too.” He wasn't sure why he was trying to give Stiles incentive. 

“Yeah.” Stiles squinted at Derek, making him squirm under the scrutiny. “Yeah, okay. I'll be there.” he eventually agreed.


	6. Denial Is Safe... Right?

Derek was feeling a pleasant buzz by the time Stiles sauntered back into the loft later that night. Derek was leaning casually against a wooden pillar, a plastic cup of some bottom-shelf vodka mixture in his hand, when he caught the flash of blood red out of the corner of his eye. His gaze fixed on it and he was unsurprised to see that it was Stiles wrapped in the color. The deep hue belonged to the well fitting button-up Stiles wore over nearly jet black skinny jeans. The shirt was cut perfectly, enhancing the width of Stiles' shoulders and accentuating his tapered waist. He had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, two buttons left open to show off the dip of his throat. His Chucks were back on his feet and his hair was in purposeful disarray. Derek's mouth may or may not have gone completely dry at the sight of him.

Stiles grinned when he caught Derek's eye, weaving through the crowd in a direct path to where Derek stood. "Hey." He greeted when he reached him, snatching the cup from Derek's hand and taking a sip. "Ugh. What the fuck is that?" He grimaced at the cup before handing it back.

"Ask Erica." Derek shrugged, feeling warm and loose. "She made it."

Stiles guffawed. "You let Erica make your drink? Are you trying to get plastered?"

"Maybe he needed it after spending an entire week with you, asshole." Erica appeared out of nowhere and shoved Stiles, but she was smiling.

She wasn't wrong but Derek didn't tell her that. He was pretty sure her reasoning was off and he had no desire to correct it, so he ignored it entirely. It was a defense mechanism, really. Self-preservation at its finest.

"Here. I made one for you, too." Erica held out another plastic cup, rocking it gently until Stiles relented and accepted it.

He lifted it to his nose, sniffing its contents. "Anyone know if you can sniff out roofies?" He asked.

Erica laughed loudly, punching Stiles' shoulder. "Just shut the fuck up and drink it."

Derek watched them interact. He was willing to admit he was a little jealous that Stiles and Erica had clicked so easily. The way they teased one another, all jabs and fond insults, it was as if they'd been friends for years rather than only a week or so. Come to think of it, Stiles clicked with just about everyone. He had a way about him that made him easy to get along with, easy to get close to. Hell, even Lydia had a change of heart and seemed to enjoy having the teen around. Derek found himself wondering why he and Stiles seemed to be the only ones whose interactions could be labeled as borderline tolerant instead of outright friendly.

"If you keep frowning like that you're gonna give yourself wrinkles." Stiles informed Derek as he leaned one shoulder against the pillar beside him.

"It's not a frown, it's a scowl." Erica shook her head, her eyes glinting with something Derek didn't even want to try to interpret. "It's practically his trademark."

"Nah, that's not true." Stiles argued mildly. He sipped from his drink but kept his eyes on Derek's face over the brim of his cup. "I've seen you smile, Derek. I know it's possible." Stiles smacked his lips, licking the vodka concoction off with a swipe of his tongue.

"Neither of you is even slightly amusing." Derek glared between the pair of them.

"Shut up, I'm hilarious." Stiles kicked at Derek's boot with the toe of his sneaker. "Come on, dude. At least try to pretend that you wouldn't rather be chained to a rock while an eagle repeatedly tears out your liver than hanging out with m- with us."

"Really, Stiles?" Derek propped his shoulder against the pillar, turning to face Stiles more directly. Neither of them noticed when Erica smirked and slinked back into the crowd. "Prometheus?"

Stiles' eyes widened in surprise. "The man knows his Greek mythology. I'm impressed."

"I'm full of surprises." Derek's lips twitched at the corners as he fought a smile.

"You're full of something, alright. My money was on a slightly skewed combination of self-inflicted misery and sexual frustration." Stiles teased, lifting his cup again.

Derek snorted and arched an incredulous brow. "You think I'm sexually frustrated?"

"Funny how you focused on that rather than the whole 'misery' thing." Stiles' eyes sparkled, apparently pleased with himself. "But, yeah. I'm guessing that you never let your guard down long enough to actually enjoy sex the way you're meant to."

"Wait a minute." Derek straightened up, amused despite himself. "So, you don't think that I'm not getting laid, just that I'm missing out on the whole experience because I'm too... restrained?"

Stiles chuckled and Derek noticed that they'd gravitated a few inches closer while they'd been bickering. "Have you seen you?" Stiles waved a hand down Derek's body. "I'm positive you're getting laid, man. I just imagine it's really angsty and there's absolutely zero laughter."

That gave Derek pause. Not just that Stiles thought Derek was stoic and broody in the sack but that he'd actually given it any thought at all. Something flipped over in Derek's chest at the idea of Stiles imagining him in any kind of sexual context.

Just as Derek was about to open his mouth to tell Stiles he was wrong, even though he mostly wasn't, Scott and Allison found them. Stiles' eyes lingered on Derek's for a few seconds before he shook his head and turned his attention to them. Derek muttered a hello but stayed mostly silent while the three of them talked. There was an odd sensation tingling at the base of Derek's spine, a strange kind of awareness that made his body vibrate with electricity. As Derek watched Stiles sip from his second drink of the night he found himself wondering just how much Stiles laughed in bed.

_____________________________________

At some point much later into the night, Stiles decided that fresh air was a thing he needed. He was pretty sure he had taken a few hits from a blunt as it made its way around their group and he felt crowded on the dance floor. So, he pushed his way through the mass of bodies, managing to only trip over his own feet once or twice in the process. When he finally reached the deck he was glad to find it mostly empty. There were only two other people outside, and Stiles recognized Danny and Ethan in the shadowed corner, cuddled up close and whispering to one another. Stiles made his way around to the other side of the deck to allow them their privacy.

Once out of sight, he dropped onto his ass, sticking his legs under the bottom rung of the railing and let his feet dangle over the edge of the deck. He felt light and pleasantly disconnected as he stared out at the lake. It was late but a few camp fires still dotted the distant shore line. Stiles found himself wishing that he was sitting beside one of those fires, a pair of strong, muscular arms wrapped around him, a stubbled jaw scratching over the thin skin under his ear. Stiles sighed and let his forehead fall forward to rest on his arms where they lay crisscrossed on the railing.

"Stiles?" A rumbling male voice called from somewhere behind him.

"Over here." Stiles answered, knowing it was Derek without even lifting his head.

"You good?" Derek asked, settling down beside him and mirroring his position.

"Yeah, I'm good." Stiles assured him, rolling his head sideways so he could look up at Derek but still keep his head on his arms. "Just needed a breather."

"Scott was looking for you." Derek informed him, his face open and relaxed for the first time since Stiles had met him. "He went to pass to you and you were gone. He looked like a lost puppy, so I figured I'd come see where you'd gone off to."

"You guys are close." Stiles stated, not bothering to make it a question.

Derek nodded. "His mother and my mother are sisters. Or, were."

Stiles felt his heart sink. "Were?"

"Yeah. My parents died right before my nineteenth birthday." Derek told him, his eyes taking on a hint of shadow at the memory.

"What happened?" Stiles asked.

"Car accident. They were coming home from my little sister's dance recital, with both of my sisters in the car." Derek shifted a little and rested his chin on his arms. "An eighteen wheeler jackknifed and the trailer came loose. All four of them were killed on impact. The only reason I'm alive is because I rode back with my Uncle Peter."

"That sucks, dude. I'm sorry." Stiles bumped Derek's shoulder with his own.

"Scott's mom, Melissa, took Lydia and I in. We moved in with them after the funerals. Scott's like a brother to me, always has been." A small smile curved Derek's lips while he talked about his family.

"I'm glad that you have them." Stiles said softly. "No one deserves to be alone."

They sat in silence for a while, both lost in their own thoughts. Derek surprised Stiles by speaking first.

"She taught me how to dance." he said suddenly, his eyes staring unseeingly into the woods. "My mom. She was a ballroom instructor. That's how she met my father. He took one of her classes and fell in love with her the minute he laid eyes on her. Or, that's always what he told us kids, anyway."

"Oh!" Stiles suddenly understood what Lydia had once told him. "Your mother is the one who made Lydia learn to dance. She said that the mother of the family that took her in insisted she have a skill to fall back on."

Derek smiled, his obnoxiously cute bunny teeth shining in the dim moonlight. "That was always my mother's way. She wanted the best for all of her kids and Lydia was just as much hers as the rest of us."

"She sounds like an amazing woman." Stiles felt warmth spread through his chest at the smile Derek wore.

"She was." Derek finally looked at Stiles, his eyes finding his easily in the dark. "What about you?"

Stiles' eyebrows knitted together. "What about me?"

"What's your family like?" Derek prodded.

"Oh." Stiles grinned. "Well, my mom is a pediatrician and Isaac takes after her. You already know my dad's a sheriff. My parents were high school sweethearts. They got married right after college and had Isaac. I came along a few years later." Derek kind of loved the way Stiles' eyes went soft and warm as he talked about them.

"So, your brother is going to be a doctor like your mom?" Derek asked.

"Yup." Stiles laid back on the deck, cushioning his head on his arms. Derek followed a moment later, much to Stiles' pleasure.

"Let me guess." Derek stretched out on his side, propping his head up on his hand so he could look down at Stiles. "You want to be a cop, like your dad?"

"I'm going to be a lawyer."

Derek noticed that Stiles didn't say that he wanted to be a lawyer, just that he was going to be. Derek thought there was an edge of bitterness in his tone. "Why?" he decided to ask.

"Why what?" Stiles rolled onto his side, facing Derek.

"Why are you going to be a lawyer?"

Stiles briefly entertained the idea of lying. He could tell Derek that being a lawyer was what he'd always wanted to do and that it would make him happy. He could lie and say that going to Columbia was his lifelong dream and he was excited to finally be going. He didn't want to lie. "It's what my parents want." he admitted instead.

Derek huffed. "I never thought of you as the kind of man to do something he didn't want to just because someone else wanted it for him."

Stiles chuckled, the sound a little hollow. "I'm really not." he agreed. "It's just with my parents... I'm their baby, you know? It's always been hard for me to tell them no. It's easier to do what they want than to argue with them. Isaac was sort of a handful when we were younger. He got into a lot of trouble and I saw the way it wore on my parents. I just... I don't want to do that to them."

"I get that." Derek nudged Stiles' thigh with his knee. "But, don't you think they'd be happy as long as you were happy?"

"I honestly don't know." Stiles sighed, his eyelids starting to feel heavy. "For the most part, yeah. But, I don't want them to be disappointed in me. I feel like they'd think I was settling if I stayed in Beacon Hills and joined the force."

"Stiles, your dad is the sheriff." Derek let his head drop down on his bicep. "I think he'd be honored that his son wanted to be like him."

"Mmm." Stiles mumbled, his eyes closed as he wiggled closer to Derek. "Maybe."

Derek grinned sleepily at the top of Stiles' head. "You deserve to be happy, Stiles." Derek murmured as his own eyes slipped shut.

________________________________________

Stiles groaned pitifully, stirring to wakefulness reluctantly. The persistent throbbing in his head was lessened to a tolerable level by something warm and comforting pressed to his forehead. He inhaled deeply, drawing the scent of leather and Derek into his lungs. The breath had just begun to settle contentedly in his chest when Stiles' eyes flashed open in surprised confusion. He tried to focus his vision but could only make out a solid wall of navy blue and a bare stretch of skin.

It took Stiles a few discombobulated moments to shake the fog of sleep from his brain enough for him to get a handle on where he was. He inhaled again, just because he could. His lungs rose beneath his ribs and for the first time, Stiles realized that there was an arm wrapped heavily around him. _Derek_ , his brain supplied helpfully. It was Derek who was holding Stiles, Derek whose chest Stiles was staring at and whose chin rested on the top of his head. Stiles realized that the warmth pressing against his forehead was actually Derek's neck, his throat softly clicking with every breath.

Stiles' heart took off in a sprint when it dawned on him that they must have fallen asleep while they were talking and snuggled closer at some point during the night. It wasn't that he was opposed to waking up in the somewhat possessive encirclement of Derek's arms, with his head tucked up under Derek's chin and his own nose nestled into the hollow of Derek's throat. Stiles wouldn't complain about being held so close that he was flush against the entire length of Derek's body, or the fact that one of his legs was caught between both of Derek's. Stiles would be lying if he said a certain contentment hadn't settled around his heart the same way his arm had apparently settled around Derek's waist. He just wished that falling asleep and waking up tangled together had been a conscious decision on both their parts rather than the result of being intoxicated and too tired to keep their eyes open.

Stiles tried to disentangle himself without waking Derek but quickly found that it would be nearly impossible. Someone had apparently draped Derek's leather over them while they were sleeping and when Stiles shifted so did the jacket. Its collar rubbed at the ridge of Derek's jaw, catching on his stubble. Derek muttered something under his breath that Stiles didn't quite catch, stirring fitfully but he didn't wake.

"Uh... Derek?" Stiles whispered, not wanting to startle the other man.

"Hmm?" Derek hummed in response, nuzzling his chin and cheek into Stiles' hair.

Stiles grinned at the sleep roughened rumble, simultaneously shuddering as the sound vibrated through him. "Now who's an octopus?" he asked when Derek's arms tightened around him and pressed Stiles more firmly against his chest.

After a moment that Stiles assumed was Derek coming back to consciousness, Derek stiffened. He seemed to take inventory quickly before muttering groggily, "Stiles?"

"Were you expecting someone else?" Stiles teased, his tone lighter than the weight around his ribs should allow.

"No, I..." Derek shifted back so that he could look down at Stiles. Stiles blinked up at him, a soft smile painted on his lips. Derek swallowed thickly. "Hey." he greeted quietly, ignoring the catch of air in his lungs.

"Hey." Stiles' smile widened. "So, we have a couple of options here." he informed Derek. Still too sleep hazy to wonder why he didn't feel as awkward as he probably should, Derek simply lifted a brow for Stiles to continue. "We can either do the whole awkward moment thing, where we pretend that this never happened and neither of us currently has a boner pressed into the others thigh, or we can be cool about it and just leave it at 'it is what it is' and go get some fucking coffee."

Derek's chuckle made Stiles' lips turn up even further and Stiles wondered when this had happened last, waking up with a smile instead of being pissed that he had to open his eyes. He couldn't remember for the life of him.

"I'll take coffee over awkward morning wood any day of the week." Derek huffed a laugh.

Stiles nodded his agreement. "Coffee it is, then." he said as he loosened his arm from around Derek's middle.

Derek followed his lead and soon they were no longer tied together in a jumble of limbs. Stiles ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to get it under control. Derek didn't bother, instead pushing himself to his feet and straightening his clothes. He offered Stiles a hand up, which he gratefully accepted. When he was on his feet Stiles smoothed his hands town his torso in a useless effort to remove some of the wrinkles from his button-up.

"You wanna go up to the dining room or...?" Stiles let the question trail off, feeling the beginnings of uncertainty flutter in his belly.

Derek contemplated the leather jacket in his hands while he debated. It only took a few seconds of deliberation for Derek to realize he wasn't ready to share Stiles with the rest of the world just yet. "I, uh... There's a coffee pot in my cabin if you'd rather avoid being seen in yesterday's clothes." Derek shrugged and motioned at Stiles' outfit.

Stiles arched a brow, another grin gracing his lips. "You don't think the slept-in and disheveled look works for me?"

Derek resisted the urge to tell Stiles that any look worked well for him, from the graphic tees and plaid button-ups to the a-shirt and track pants he wore while they practiced. He bit his tongue to stop himself from telling Stiles that even covered in sweat, with flushed cheeks and messy hair, he made Derek's mouth water. Maybe especially then. Instead, he settled on, "I just figured you wouldn't want to run into your parents while looking... like that."

"Debauched?" Stiles supplied with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

Derek rolled his eyes but his pulse skittered. "Do you want to go back to my cabin or not?"

Stiles shrugged as though his heart wasn't hammering in his throat at the idea of being alone with Derek in his cabin. "Sounds like a plan to me. Just give me a minute."

Derek followed him back into the loft and watched him disappear into the bathroom. Derek ducked into the bathroom on the opposite wall. When he emerged, Stiles was leaning against the door frame waiting for him.

"So, who do you think was our fairy-godparent?" Stiles asked, gesturing to Derek's leather jacket as they hiked up the path to his cabin. It was absurdly early, the sun barely hanging in the sky, so they were mostly alone on the path, only passing a pair of employees Stiles recognized but didn't know by name.

Derek shrugged one shoulder. He hadn't really given it a lot of thought but he had a suspicion. "Probably Scott." he guessed. "Once he sobered up enough to notice we were both missing, anyway."

"Do you think he thinks...?" Stiles pointed from himself to Derek.

"Probably." Derek nodded. After a long moment he added, "Does that bother you?"

Stiles shook his head, his eyes refusing to look up from the ground. "Nah." he said, his tone as nonchalant as he could manage. "There are worse things in the world than Scott assuming I'm banging his annoyingly hot cousin."

"Annoyingly hot?" Derek laughed as he led Stiles up the steps to his front door. "I'm not sure if I should be flattered or offended." he said as he motioned Stiles into the cabin.

Stiles glanced around the space while he responded, "That's up to you." He yawned unselfconsciously while he looked around, noting the distinctly bachelor-esque feeling of the cabin's interior. "It was meant as a compliment, though." he assured.

Derek bit the inside of his bottom lip to stop it from curling up into a self-satisfied smirk as he tossed his jacket over the back of a chair and crossed the room to start a pot of coffee.

Stiles watched Derek putter around the little kitchenette, drinking in the graceful way he moved even in such a small space. Derek's kitchen area consisted of nothing more than a refrigerator, a counter with a few appliances and a stainless steel sink, and a stove range with no oven. It was situated along one wall and was only separated from the rest of the space by a small, round dining table. Stiles moved through the living room area and plopped down on Derek's couch.

"This is a cute little place." Stiles called over the back of the sofa, settling down into its cushions.

Derek snorted. "Emphasis on the word 'little'." he called back, pouring water into the coffee machine. "It's nothing like my place back home but it's only for the summers. I don't spend a lot of time in here so I never saw the point in trying to fix it up."

"How long have you worked here?" Stiles asked, tilting his head in question when Derek dropped down onto the opposite end of the couch. Stiles tried not to read too much into the fact that Derek chose to share the couch with him rather than sitting in the recliner that sat beside it.

"About four years." Derek leaned his head on his fist, his elbow propped up on the back of the sofa.

"What do you do in the off season?" Stiles wondered.

"I'm a personal trainer." Derek informed him. "My uncle owns a gym in our town and I work there the rest of the year."

"Explains the annoying hotness." Stiles grinned over at him, his head falling back against the cushions.

Their eyes met and Derek couldn't help but return Stiles' smile. His skin prickled with an unfamiliar sensation that spread down the back of his neck, curling around his spine and zipping down to the soles of his feet. Stiles shifted a bit closer, leaning into Derek's space without thinking. Derek felt drawn in, a magnetic pull urging him forward while his eyes flickered between Stiles' warm gaze and his full lips.

"Derek-" Stiles began, but was cut off by the sudden trill of his cellphone making both of them jump. "Shit." Stiles mumbled, pulling the phone from his pocket.

Derek pushed himself off the couch and went back to the kitchen to fix their coffees. He needed to put distance between himself and what he'd almost just done. Again.

"Fuck my life." Stiles sighed. Derek turned in time to watch the teen heave himself up from the sofa. Stiles was tucking his phone back into his pocket and looking sheepish. "Don't think that this at all reflects on what we were maybe, possibly just about to do but, I gotta go. That was Isaac." Stiles patted the phone in his pocket. "My parents are looking for me and I have about ten minutes to get back to our cabin and change before they get back from breakfast."

Derek's stomach dropped even though Stiles said he wasn't bolting because of the almost-kiss. "It's fine, Stiles." Derek assured him, hoping the disappointment didn't show on his face. "No worries."

Stiles tipped his head to one side, trying to decide if he imagined the tight sound of Derek's voice. "I'll see you this afternoon?"

"Yeah." Derek nodded, his eyes flicking up and away from Stiles' probing gaze. "I'll meet you at the loft."

Stiles hesitated, lingering by the edge of the dining table as if there were something more he wanted to say. With a reluctant sigh he turned and headed for the door, glancing back over his shoulder a few times as he went.

After he heard the door bang shut, Derek stood in the kitchen, staring blankly at the space Stiles had vacated with a tendril of unease curling in his belly. He was confused by his feelings for Stiles, unwilling to even admit it went beyond an attraction to the adorably clumsy teenager. _Teenager_ , Derek's brain helpfully emphasized. Stiles was barely eighteen to Derek's almost twenty-six. It wasn't an unheard of gap but Derek was relatively sure Stiles' parents would find fault with it. Besides, Derek was a serial monogamist and he didn't want to put that kind of pressure on an eighteen year old who was taking off for college in a little over two months time. _An eighteen year old who has a boyfriend_ , Derek remembered. Jackson was a douche and Stiles didn't seem to be too concerned about him, but Derek wasn't going to be the guy Stiles cheated with.

Derek slammed his fist against the counter and fought to ignore the pain behind his heart.


	7. Caught In A Storm

While Derek spent the morning talking himself out of falling for a sarcastically inclined teenager, Stiles spent it with his parents. He'd somehow managed to convince his mother that he had been in bed with a headache when they left for breakfast but was feeling much better by the time they returned. The sheriff's mouth twitched as if he were trying to stifle a smile and Stiles knew his father didn't buy it for a second. But he apparently had no inclination to call Stiles on the lie. Stiles figured his father assumed he'd been with Jackson and felt no desire to correct the assumption, so he kept his lips zipped.

By the time noon rolled around Stiles was off the hook with his parents and on his way to meet Erica and Boyd for lunch. He was only mildly surprised to find Scott and Allison sitting at the table, too.

"Hey guys." Stiles plopped down into the only free chair and glanced around the table.

Erica's eyes twinkled knowingly and Stiles could feel the blush creeping up his neck before she even spoke. "Well, if it isn't sleeping beauty."

Stiles groaned, rolling his head toward Scott. "Really?" he asked blandly.

"Don't blame him." Erica smacked Stiles on the shoulder before Scott had even opened his mouth to defend himself. "You disappeared without saying goodbye. I was worried."

"She was." Boyd smirked at Stiles. "Until she found you and Derek cuddling on the deck."

Everyone chuckled at that, though Stiles was grateful to note that Allison offered him a sympathetic smile. Allison might be his favorite.

"We were not cuddling." Stiles argued without heat, because really, that's exactly what they'd been doing.

"What would you call it then, Stilinski?" Erica pressed, leaning forward and propping her chin on her palm, drumming her fingertips along her bottom lip.

"Sleeping." Stiles said shortly before snatching Erica's coffee and taking a long sip.

"Pfft." Erica objected. "If you two had been any more tightly entwined, one of you would have needed to wear a condom."

"Erica!" Scott guffawed while Stiles blushed a bright crimson. "For Christ's sake, that's my cousin you're talking about!"

"Oh, stop." Erica leaned back in her chair, grinning as Boyd's arm came around her shoulders. "You guys grew up together. I'm sure you've heard, and seen, worse."

"Why are we friends with her?" Scott looked pleadingly to Allison in search of an answer, his warm brown eyes wide and pained.

"Because we love her." Allison reminded him with a ruffle of his hair.

"Damn right you do." Erica beamed and then returned her attention to Stiles. "So, you gonna hit that or what?"

Stiles let his forehead smack down onto the table with a thud so hard it rattled the dishes.

 

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Derek arrived at the loft earlier than he'd planned. He knew that Stiles wouldn't show up for at least another half an hour but he was so full of restless energy that he couldn't stay still. He'd already gone for a run, done laundry, and cleaned the entirety of his cabin when he decided that getting a head start on practice might help disperse some of the electricity humming through his veins.

He was drenched in sweat, panting for breath and comfortably sore by the time Stiles dashed through the door, soaked to the bone with rain.

"Ugh." Stiles grunted, shaking out his hair. "Today officially sucks." He slouched into the loft, leaving the door open to allow the cool air and sound of rain to fill the space.

"That bad?" Derek asked, determinedly avoiding watching Stiles peel himself out of his drenched Batman t-shirt.

"Well," Stiles started in a frustrated tone while hanging his tee and undershirt over the back of a few chairs, "after I left your place, I had to deal with my parents. I'm pretty sure my mom bought that I was safely tucked in bed while they had breakfast but I know my dad saw right fucking through me. He didn't say anything but he's probably going to store it away and use it against me at a more opportune time. Huh... I guess that's where Isaac gets it."

The smile that tugged up the corners of Derek's mouth refused to be stopped. Babbling Stiles was sort of adorable. "That doesn't sound so bad." Derek reasoned.

"Sure." Stiles ambled over to where Derek stood beside a table pushed up against the wall and lifted himself onto it. "But, you didn't have to have lunch with your friends today."

Derek chuckled, the sound settling comfortably in Stiles' bones. "They're your friends too, Stiles."

"I disown them." Stiles shook his head, splattering his bare torso and Derek's arm with droplets of rain. "They spent most of lunch teasing me about last night. Erica is the absolute worst, you realize that right? Woman is sadistic. She's Satan in a mini-skirt."

Derek barked a laugh that reverberated through the loft, mixing melodiously with the pounding rain. "Scott ratted us out, huh?"

"Yeah. Apparently Erica was concerned that we both disappeared without telling anyone we were leaving and threatened to launch a search party. So, Scott told her we were fine. And, Erica being Erica, she wouldn't leave it alone until Scott spilled the beans." Stiles paused for a beat and then added, "Can I take a second to just tell you how violated I feel knowing that all of our friends watched us cuddle?"

Derek arched a brow at that. "Oh, they're 'our' friends again?" he asked, a smirk slipping into place.

"I've always had trouble holding a grudge." Stiles waved it away with a grin.

"So, that's what makes for a bad day in Stiles Stilinski's book?" Derek questioned.

"Well, yeah." Stiles leaned his head back against the wall. "Add that to running into Jackson and Danny on my way here and subsequently ending up sopping wet because Jackson never knows when to stop talking, and my day has been one long 'fuck this guy' kind of day."

Derek sobered immediately at the mention of Jackson. "Did you..."

"What?" Stiles asked, letting his head roll to the side to glance quizzically at Derek.

Derek cleared his throat and made himself ask, "Did you tell Jackson about last night?"

"Noooo..." Stiles looked genuinely confused. "Why would I?"

"You don't think he has a right to know you spent the night wrapped around another guy?" Derek's eyebrows knotted together over a frown.

Something seemed to occur to Stiles and he suddenly burst into a fit of laughter. Derek watched in confusion while Stiles fell over sideways onto the table, one hand pressed flat over his abs while he laughed. "Oh my God, dude." he wheezed.

"I don't see how this is funny, Stiles." Derek crossed his arms over his chest, glaring down at the giggling mass of teenager.

Stiles struggled for breath, trying to calm himself enough so he could speak. Derek watched him with growing irritation until he couldn't take it anymore. He turned on his heel and marched away. Stiles was off the table in an instant, throwing himself between Derek and the exit.

"Wait." Stiles panted, putting a hand up, palm out, to stop Derek from leaving. "Just hang on a second." He hunched over, hands on his knees, to catch his breath.

Despite his better judgment, Derek waited. He stood stiffly with his arms still crossed over his chest, his chest rising and falling in anger under the stretched fabric of his gray a-shirt.

After another minute, Stiles straightened up and met Derek's eye, his tone still amused. "Derek, Jackson isn't my boyfriend."

Whatever Derek had been expecting, whatever lie or excuse he thought Stiles was going to try and make him buy into, that wasn't it. "Bullshit." Derek said, though it may have sounded more like a question.

"Jackson has never and will never be my boyfriend." Stiles told him, sincerity ringing in every syllable. "We, believe it or not, are friends. Kind of. I mean, I know he's into me but I'm... I'm not dating Jackson."

"I asked you before we even-"

Stiles gave Derek a dose of his own medicine and cut him off. "You never asked, Derek. You assumed that he was."

"Why didn't you tell me I was wrong?" Derek questioned, taking a few menacing steps closer to Stiles.

Stiles stepped back instinctively. "Because I was angry with you. You kept making me feel like I was some dumb kid that didn't know shit about the world around him. Every time you looked at me I felt stupid and inadequate and it pissed me off. Also, I may have still have been a little pissed with you for the way you straight up dismissed me the night I found out about Lydia."

Derek stalked a couple of steps closer, his eyes glinting with something hot and angry that Stiles was sure should make him cower but instead made heat coil in his belly. "And that night at rehearsal? Why didn't you correct me then?" Derek demanded, his jaw tight.

"Because!" Stiles yelled, feeling cornered and defensive. "You were being a dick that night and I was frustrated. You had your hands all over me and I wanted you to kiss me so bad I couldn't think about anything else. I finally got you to smile for me, to laugh at something and then you just... Shut me out. One minute we were flirting and actually enjoying each others company and the next, you were all growly and angry. I felt like I was getting whiplash."

"You asked me to not be me when I touched you, Stiles!" Derek's voice rose to meet his. "What the fuck was I supposed to think?"

Stiles snorted derisively. "That you touching me was fucking distracting! I couldn't concentrate to learn my steps with your hands all over me, Derek. _Your_ hands!" Stiles gesticulated wildly, his arms flailing around him in anger. "When I said I wanted you to be less you, I meant that I wanted you to be less frustratingly attractive and stupidly disorienting. How is it my fault that you automatically assumed the worst?"

"You didn't correct me!" Derek growled, prowling closer until Stiles could feel the coolness radiating from the wall at his back.

"I shouldn't have to, you idiot!" Stiles bit out. "You're a grown fucking man, Derek. I seriously could not have been more clear about what I wanted if I'd worn a sign around my neck with the words ' **KISS ME DEREK HALE** ' written in huge block letters."

"I thought you had a boyfriend, Stiles." Derek gritted from between clenched teeth. "I wasn't going to be that guy. That's not who I am!"

"Well, now you know better!" Stiles shouted, his hands fisting at his sides while the flush of anger climbed high on his cheekbones and he pulled himself to full height indignantly.

Derek didn't think about it, didn't let him talk himself out of acting. One second Stiles was shouting at him and in the very next heartbeat Derek shoved him against the wall, his mouth crushing Stiles' while his hands gripped Stiles' face tightly in his palms. Derek traced the seam of Stiles' lips with his tongue and nipped sharply at his bottom lip until Stiles granted him access. Stiles whimpered and arched away from the wall, the cold wooden planks feeling like ice against his burning skin. His hands scrabbled at Derek's sides, searching for purchase, for anything to hold him up when his knees started to give out beneath him. Derek felt Stiles crumble and slipped his thigh between Stiles' legs to keep him upright. Stiles squeezed his thighs around Derek's as his fingers twisted into the fabric of his shirt and rocked his hips forward into the cut of Derek's pelvis, groaning with satisfaction at the friction he found. Derek plundered Stiles' mouth, his tongue skating over teeth, sliding against Stiles' tongue with persistent pressure until Stiles let a full blown moan rip its way up his throat. Derek swallowed the sound, sliding his hands up and around until his fingers were buried in Stiles' hair. He tugged gently, tipping Stiles' head back so that Derek was leaning over him while he pressed him into the wall.

Derek pulled away to let Stiles catch his breath, but he didn't release him. He stared down into Stiles' eyes, searching their honey colored depths for something to make him come to his senses before this got too out of control and both of them got swept away in the riptide. Stiles blinked owlishly up at Derek, his heart thundering in his ears, his chest heaving in an effort to draw a breath. He didn't shy away from the intensity of Derek's gaze, didn't waver under the assault of emotions swirling in the green pools of his eyes. Stiles simply stretched up to brush a comparatively innocent kiss to Derek's lips before smiling dazedly up at him.

"See what a little knowledge can do?" Stiles breathed, his eyes dark and pupils blown wide.

"Shut up, Stiles." Derek murmured, lowering his head to capture his lips again.

Stiles pushed up into the kiss, his hands curling around Derek's hips and tugging him forward. Stiles strained against Derek, his hips rolling of their own volition, his tongue tangling with Derek's desperately. Derek felt the urgency in Stiles' movements, felt the answering need clawing in his own chest. Derek's fingers entangled themselves in Stiles' hair more roughly as he sucked Stiles' bottom lip between his teeth, biting the pink fullness until it swelled beautifully. Stiles' nails tore at Derek's back, his hands diving beneath Derek's shirt in a bid to touch skin. Derek's pelvis jerked forward involuntarily when Stiles' nails dragged down the length of his spine, slamming Stiles back into the wall roughly. A gasp puffed through Stiles' lips and ghosted over Derek's tongue, tasting of desire and something wild enough that it sent Derek's pulse skittering. Derek tore his mouth from Stiles', his lips dragging along the line of Stiles' jaw. Derek's tongue flicked out to taste the line of moles that curved over the hinge of Stiles' jaw and under his ear. Derek followed the line, alternating between stinging bites and soothing kisses as he worked his way along it.

"Jesus, Derek." Stiles panted, writhing under Derek's hands as they kneaded down his sides, slipping around his back to dip beneath the waist of his pants.

Derek hummed into Stiles' skin, capturing his earlobe and nibbling it with his teeth. Stiles moaned, rough and ragged, and ground his hard-on into Derek's hip, hitching one leg around his waist. His hands came up to frame Derek's face and dragged his lips back to his own so he could kiss Derek, deep and hungry. Derek couldn't breathe. Every time he tried, he inhaled Stiles and left no room in his lungs for air. Part of him didn't care, only wanted to kiss Stiles until he couldn't think anymore. When his lungs started to burn and his head began to swim he ripped his lips away from Stiles' and gulped for air.

" _Fuck_." Stiles' chest heaved as he fought to catch his breath.

Derek pressed his forehead to Stiles', screwing his eyes shut tight in an attempt to ground himself. His body felt like it was floating, no tangible connection left between his mind and his physical self. All the blood had left his brain and found a new home in his cock, aching heavily between his legs, leaving his mind muddled and disoriented. Everything felt hot, white hot and singeing him from the inside out. He blinked slowly as the burn faded from his chest, morphing into a dull ache he knew he'd feel for days.

Stiles' eyelids fluttered closed as they shared what little air managed to snake between them. He was no stranger to kissing but no one had ever kissed him like that, like they were trying to swallow him whole. No one had ever kissed him like they needed it more than they needed their next breath.

Derek wasn't sure how long they clung to one another, neither of them willing to be the first to pull away. A loud clap of thunder made them both jump, breaking the spell that had woven itself around them.

Stiles huffed a strangled laugh and pushed a hand through his thoroughly mussed hair, his eyes searching Derek's. "Well, that's one way to ruin a moment."

Derek forced himself to release Stiles and took a few steps back. "That... I didn't mean... I don't know what just happened." Derek met Stiles' gaze, his eyes asking the questions his mouth couldn't seem to form. Had Derek crossed a line? Had he acted too impulsively and broken what was building between them? Stiles seemed like he was into it but Derek hadn't given him much chance to object. Maybe he should have been more gentle. Maybe he should have let Stiles make the first move. Maybe he shouldn't have-

Stiles' voice pulled him from his doubts. "Don't go freaking out on me." Stiles smiled reassuringly, stepping closer to Derek on wobbly legs, letting his fingers brush over Derek's arm as he paused beside him. "I'm not really sure what just happened either, but I'm glad it did." Stiles eyes radiated honesty. "Look, this got a little more intense than either of us were planning on, yeah?"

Derek hesitated but ultimately nodded. "Yeah." he agreed guiltily.

"So," Stiles leaned up and pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of Derek's mouth, "let's leave it where it is and get back to practice, okay? We can figure the rest of it out later."

Derek turned to watch Stiles make his way to the table he'd vacated, scooping up a bottle of water and taking a few gulps. "Right." Derek shook his head to try and clear the Stiles induced haze. "We'll figure it out later."

 

_____________________________________________

 

Talking about it later seemed to translate into not talking about it at all. They spent the rest of practice running through the routine while simultaneously trying to resist the urge to pick up where they left off. Stiles was a quivering mess of exposed nerves every time Derek touched him, his skin lighting up like the Vegas strip when Derek grabbed him just below the ribcage, his hands splaying wide along Stiles' sides to guide the rotation of his hips.

Derek didn't fare much better. Every time Stiles' lips parted on a puff of air, Derek had to fight back the instinct to close the distance between them and kiss those lips swollen for the second time. With his fingers pressing into Stiles' waist, Derek mentally kicked himself when his mind conjured up images of Stiles on his knees with Derek's hands guiding him back while he thrust forward, pulling Stiles apart at the seams.

When they were both too exhausted to keep rehearsing, Stiles dropped heavily into a chair holding one of his drying shirts.

"You're getting there." Derek told him, grinning affectionately at the way Stiles had himself draped over the chair, all loose-limbed and worn out.

Stiles laughed, a breathless sound that carried on the air. "Is that your way of kindly informing me that I still suck at this?"

Derek chuckled, shaking his head as he tossed a bottle of water to Stiles. "Give yourself some credit. You've come a long way in just a few weeks."

"I've had a good teacher." Stiles grinned before cracking the cap off his water bottle and taking a long chug.

"Yeah. Lydia is pretty great." Derek met Stiles' eye and tried not to smile.

"Idiot." Stiles laughed, chucking his cap at Derek. It hit him in the chest and bounced onto the floor.

The smile he was trying to deny stretched across Derek's face. There was a suspended moment between them, a moment frozen in time where they just grinned stupidly at one another and tried to pretend neither of them felt the uptick in their pulse.

"So," Stiles forced himself to look away first, mostly because he was afraid that if he didn't, neither of them ever would. "Any plans for the rest of the night?" he asked Derek, glancing over his shoulder out the open door. It was still raining heavily, and the sky was so dark with storm clouds he couldn't tell how late it was.

Derek shrugged. "Not really. Why? Did you have something in mind?" he inquired, praying that he did.

"Well, I'd suggest skinny dipping but I'm not eager to swim during a thunderstorm." Stiles pushed himself out of the chair and dragged his phone from the pocket of his track pants. "It's still pretty early. We could go back to your cabin and watch a movie or something." he suggested, ignoring the way his heart raced in his chest with a warring mixture of anticipation and fear of rejection.

Derek probably should have thought about it, probably should have thought better of it. He didn't. "As long as you don't mind watching something on my laptop." Derek agreed almost immediately.

"You don't have a TV?" Stiles balked. When Derek shook his head, Stiles added, "Heathen."

"Stiles, you've been in my cabin." Derek pointed out.

"Yeah, but I only saw the living room and the kitchen. I assumed you at least had a TV in your bedroom!"

"Haven't we figured out that both of us are really good at making incorrect assumptions?" A half smile tugged up one corner of Derek's mouth.

"Whatever, Hale." Stiles grinned as he dragged his shirts over his head.

 

_______________________________________

 

Ten minutes later Derek let Stiles into his cabin, flipping on the overhead lights as he headed for the bathroom in search of a couple of towels. They were both thoroughly drenched, Stiles' temporarily dry shirts once again soaked through.

"I don't even know why I bothered to put the damn things back on." Stiles grumbled, drawing the shirts over his head and draping them over the back of two of the four chairs surrounding Derek's dining table.

Derek came back with towels, extending one to Stiles. "You can borrow something from me while your clothes dry, if you want." he offered.

"Thanks." Stiles said, his voice a little muffled as he scrubbed the towel over his hair.

Derek left Stiles in the kitchen to go find something for both of them to change into. He shuffled through his drawers, coming up with two pairs of sweats and a couple of t-shirts.

"Wow. You really have this whole minimalist living thing down to a science." Stiles' voice startled him from the doorway.

Derek turned to find Stiles leaning against the doorjamb, arms crossed over his bare chest while his eyes swept the mostly empty space of Derek's bedroom. The only furniture in the room were Derek's full-size bed, a dresser, and a nightstand. Other than that, the room was relatively bare.

"I told you." Derek held out the change of clothes for Stiles to take. "I don't spend a lot of time here."

"In your bedroom?" Stiles asked as he pulled on the borrowed tee.

"In my cabin." Derek corrected, looking away and swallowing around the knot in his throat when Stiles kicked off his track pants and shimmied into Derek's sweats. Something about Stiles wearing his clothes sent Derek's libido spiking off the charts. "Between working and hanging out with everybody, I'm really only here long enough to shower and sleep." he managed to get out.

"Except when you're with me?" Stiles questioned, his lips curving slightly with a smile as he stepped further into the bedroom.

"Apparently." Derek agreed.

Stiles stopped when he stood right in front of Derek, close enough that he could count each individual hair that speckled his chin and cheeks. He lifted a hand to tug at the hem of Derek's a-shirt. "You really should get out of these wet clothes, Derek." Stiles informed him.

Derek's breath snagged in his throat when Stiles' fingertips dipped under the shirt and just barely brushed over the trail of hair leading down from Derek's navel. "Stiles..." Derek wasn't sure whether it was supposed to be a warning or a plea, but either way he knew he was fucked.

Stiles, the little shit, knew exactly what he was doing. He leaned in to brush his lips over Derek's, the lightest amount of pressure of skin on skin. "Why don't you give me your laptop and I'll pick out a movie while you change?" Stiles suggested, his voice whispering over Derek's skin teasingly.

"It's on the floor next to the bed." Derek told him, his eyes never leaving Stiles' mouth. Before Stiles could move around him to get to the bed Derek pulled him back in, capturing Stiles' lips in a proper kiss rather than the teasing one Stiles had given him. "No rom-coms." Derek warned Stiles, his voice low and buzzing when he pulled away.

Stiles nodded numbly, his lips humming like live wires. Derek grinned when Stiles wobbled a little with the first few steps toward the bed. Finding the laptop, Stiles plopped down on the mattress, propping himself up with a few pillows against the headboard while Derek changed.

"So, exactly how harshly will you judge me if I suggest a superhero movie?" Stiles inquired as Derek climbed onto the bed, nudging Stiles with his hip to push him out of Derek's usual spot.

"I grade on a curve." Derek adjusted his pillows, watching Stiles scroll through a list of movies. "I have actually met you, you know. I'd be more surprised if you didn't suggest a comic book movie. My agreement depends on the superhero, though."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Are you a superhero snob, Derek?" he asked, fighting the smile attempting to split his face.

"Yes." Derek nodded seriously. "If you try to make me sit through Ang Lee's 'Hulk', I'm out."

"Fair enough." Stiles settled into Derek's side, propping the laptop on his knees. "What about 'The Avengers'? It's got something for everyone. ScarJo to Downey, the sexy bases are covered."

"Downey your type?" Derek asked, genuinely curious.

"Downey is everybody's type, Derek." Stiles informed him as he started the movie.

The next thing Stiles knew he was opening his eyes to Derek's screensaver. The room around them was nearly pitch black, only the barest hint of moonlight filtering in between Derek's bedroom curtains. Stiles shifted, curling in closer to Derek's side. Stiles' head was resting on Derek's chest while Derek's arm was wrapped firmly around his shoulders. Stiles smiled to himself as he felt the steady rise and fall of Derek's breathing. Stiles had no idea what time it was or if his parents were wondering where their youngest son had disappeared to. He didn't know how long he and Derek had been asleep, only that the last thing he remembered was Thor and Iron Man having a sassfest in the middle of the woods. Stiles knew he should probably get up and go back to his own cabin. He knew that he should get up and change back into his own clothes before the sun came up. Stiles told himself he was allowed five more minutes to snuggle into Derek's warmth and then he'd go. Five more minutes to simply enjoy being held close and then he was gone.


	8. Whatever This Is

Derek startled awake to the ear splitting strains of some bass-heavy hip-hop song blaring, tinny and obnoxious, from Stiles' cellphone. Stiles bolted upright, scrambling for his phone where it lay on the nightstand. He had to stretch over Derek, half straddling him in the process, before he managed to snatch the phone up and press it to his ear.

"Yeah?" he answered, rubbing a hand over his face while he willed his heartbeat to slow the hell down and settled back down beside Derek.

Derek watched Stiles' face shift from barely awake to attentive while he listened to whoever was on the other end. Derek took the opportunity to let his eyes drink in the sight of Stiles in his bed first thing in the morning, hair mussed and eyes puffy with sleep. Stiles grinned up at Derek, not unaware of his watchful eye. He wriggled closer, snuggling himself more securely into the curve of Derek's side.

"Thanks for the heads up. I'll be back in a little bit." Stiles hung up the phone and dropped it on Derek's chest. "Morning." he yawned.

"Everything okay?" Derek asked as he set Stiles' phone back on the nightstand before rolling onto his side, facing Stiles.

"Yeah, it was just Isaac." Stiles spread his palms flat on Derek's chest and eased them lower, smirking cockily when Derek's abs contracted beneath his hands. "My parents went into town so I have some time before I have to get back."

Derek fought the wave of lust that rose up in his gut. Waking up with Stiles was something Derek thought he'd never get to do and here he was doing it twice in two days time. Better yet, Stiles didn't seem to feel awkward being there, waking up in Derek's bed. In fact, he seemed comfortable, more than happy to cuddle into Derek's chest and simply _be_. Hope reared its head, making Derek think that maybe this could be something, maybe he and Stiles could be something. Maybe this could be more than dancing, more than lust and close proximity. Maybe they could be _more_.

"Why don't I make us some breakfast then?" Derek suggested, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to Stiles' lips, morning breath be damned.

"Breakfast sounds good." Stiles grinned into the kiss, barely resisting the urge to purr like a contented cat. "Not as good as staying in this bed and kissing each other senseless, but still good."

Chuckling, Derek rolled them over, earning himself a manly squeak of surprise from Stiles when the teen's back sank into the mattress. Derek dipped his head, running his lips along the ridge of Stiles' jaw, nipping lightly at the soft skin underneath it. Stiles' moaned, a jagged, punched out sound that reminded Derek to reign it in. He pulled back and looked down at Stiles, sleep rumpled and flushed beneath him.

"I don't want to rush this." Derek said earnestly, feeling the need to put into words the thoughts that were swirling in his head, a sensation he was mostly unfamiliar with. Derek was the type of man who preferred to keep his words to himself, to keep everything to himself. Something about Stiles made him want to open up, just a little bit. Something about Stiles made Derek want to share pieces of himself. "This is..." Derek tried to explain.

Stiles smiled affectionately up at Derek, his heart beating double time against his ribs. The look in Derek's eyes was enough to convey what he couldn't seem to voice. "Yeah." Stiles finished for him. "Yeah, it is."

Stiles captured Derek's lips again, pressing his body up into the solid warmth of Derek above him. Stiles parted his legs, letting Derek fall between his open knees to settle into the cradle of his thighs. Derek groaned, a deep vibration in his chest that echoed in Stiles' ribcage, sending licks of desire skipping down his spine.

"About that breakfast?" Stiles asked breathlessly, after several long minutes passed in desperate kisses and he forced himself to drag his lips away from Derek's mouth.

Derek huffed a laugh, his lungs tight in his chest and his heart beating loud and erratic in his ears. He pushed himself back, kneeling up on the bed and extending a hand to Stiles. "Come on." Derek tugged Stiles up and climbed off the bed. "You make the coffee, I'll make the pancakes."

 

_______________________________________________

 

Nearly a week later, Stiles was just hauling himself out of the lake, enjoying the rare opportunity since Derek, Erica, and Lydia were all working, when Jackson found him.

"How about that lunch?" He smirked, his blue eyes trailing down Stiles' body like rivulets of water.

Stiles chuckled as he dried off with his towel. "Persistent bastard, aren't you?"

"Come on. You promised me lunch weeks ago." Jackson reminded him, falling into step beside him as Stiles walked back up the beach. "It's time to pay up."

"Just because no one else can tolerate you, don't think I'm obligated to indulge your demands." Stiles draped his beach towel around his shoulders, smirking.

"Asshole." Jackson punched his shoulder. "Are you gonna have lunch with me or not?"

"Fine." Stiles sighed exaggeratedly. "I'll meet you in the dining hall in half an hour. I gotta shower and change first."

Without another word, Jackson left Stiles to walk back to his cabin alone.

 

_______________________________________________

 

Freshly showered and dressed in a t-shirt and basketball shorts, Stiles ran into Isaac on his way up to the lodge. "Where are you going?" Stiles asked his brother.

"I'm meeting a friend in town." Isaac responded evasively, twirling the keys to their dad's SUV around his middle finger.

"Aiden?" Stiles arched a brow and smiled at the surprise evident on Isaac's face.

"How do you know about that?" Isaac narrowed his eyes at Stiles.

"Come on, Isaac." Stiles shoved his hands into the pockets of his shorts. "You haven't exactly been subtle. And besides that, Aiden's brother is friends with Scott. Even he doesn't understand what you see in Aiden."

Isaac's face conveyed his annoyance. "It's none of his business. Or yours, for that matter. Stay out of it, Stiles."

"Just... Be careful, Isaac. Aiden's not a good guy, alright? I don't want to see you get hurt." Stiles told his brother, hoping his sincerity didn't come off as condescension.

"Says the guy who's fucking around with Derek Hale _and_ Jackson Whittemore." Isaac sneered.

Stiles' mouth dropped open in shock. "I am not!" he insisted. "Jackson and I are friends, Isaac. That's all."

"And Derek?" Isaac glared at him. "Aiden told me, Stiles, so don't even bother trying to lie to me."

"How the fuck would Aiden know?" Stiles snapped, his pulse throbbing angrily in his throat. He felt a blush creeping up his neck but he fought to push it down. He wasn't embarrassed about his... Whatever it was he had with Derek. He was mad that Aiden somehow knew about it, however. And he was seriously pissed that the jackass felt it appropriate to inform Stiles' brother.

"He's too old for you, Stiles! Mom and Dad will kill you when they find out." Isaac hissed.

"So don't fucking tell them, Isaac!" Stiles spat. "I'm eighteen. I'm an adult who is fully capable of deciding who he hangs out with."

"Hangs out with?" Isaac snorted. "Right. You expect me to believe that you're out all night because you're 'hanging out' with him? You're telling me to be careful, let me return the favor. Derek's going to hurt you, Stiles. He's going to break your heart and you have to know that."

Stiles growled. "You don't know anything about him."

"Really?" Isaac took a step closer and lowered his voice. "Why don't you ask him about Kate Argent?"

Stiles' mouth flattened into an angry line. "I already know about her thing for Derek. Scott told me weeks ago."

"Did Scott also tell you that Derek's been sleeping with her every summer since he started working here? Or about the others?" Isaac's eyes softened when he watched all the color drain from his little brother's face. "I figured as much." He sighed, lifting a hand to squeeze Stiles shoulder. "Listen, kiddo. Aiden may be the biggest asshat known to man but at least he's up front about it. He's never pretended to be anything other than what he is. I can't say the same for Derek."

Stiles refused to let his eyes water, refused to let Isaac see how much he'd already invested in Derek. "Fine, Isaac. I get it, okay? I'm an idiot. Can I go now?" Stiles muttered, desperately ignoring the stabbing pain in his chest, the crushing pressure in his sternum.

Isaac looked like he might argue but after a moments hesitation he nodded. "Come home tonight, Stiles. I'll get a bottle and we can get shit-faced while cursing the men who make our lives miserable."

"Yeah." Stiles nodded, running a shaking hand through his hair. "Alright."

When Stiles finally made it to the dining hall, Jackson was already waiting. His expression shifted from annoyance to concern when he caught the look on Stiles' face. "Everything okay?" he asked.

"Fine." Stiles attempted a smile but the expression felt wrong on his face. "Just got into it with my brother. It's no big deal."

Jackson let the subject drop much to Stiles' relief. They ordered lunch from Danny, who would linger and chat with them when he had a lull in tables. Stiles thought he maintained an acceptable level of conversation but from the way Jackson kept sneaking glances at him from the corner of his eye, he suspected that he failed. Stiles' mind kept casting itself back to the night Scott had told him about Allison's aunt. He remembered Scott saying that he wasn't sure what was going on between Kate and Derek but that Allison had mentioned some kind of history existing there.

Stiles' stomach felt like it was full of rocks as the thoughts kept swirling in his mind. The rocks turned into balls of lead when he recalled the way Derek had kissed him in the loft almost a week before. He felt nauseous when he thought of waking up beside Derek after falling asleep tucked into his side. Stiles' chest hurt when he thought of the way Derek had kissed him, slow and sweet, before he left to return to his own cabin after telling him that they shouldn't rush things. They hadn't talked about it, hadn't put a name to what was happening between them but Stiles had thought it was important. Special even. They'd shared a few more kisses, a handful of stolen moments of passionate caresses in the days since then. Stiles had actually begun to think that Derek truly liked him, had let himself believe that maybe he meant something to Derek. But how could Stiles be any sort of important to Derek if the asshole wasn't even honest about who he was screwing? Derek had even had the nerve to be angry with Stiles when he thought Stiles was cheating on Jackson with him. He'd made a big deal about not being that kind of guy, the kind of person who would cheat or help someone else do it. God, how dumb had Stiles been to buy that?

"Stiles?" Jackson's voice cut through the storm in his head.

"Sorry, what?" Stiles blinked as he came back to the present.

"Are you sure you're okay? I've been trying to get your attention for the last five minutes." Jackson reached across the table to lightly touch Stiles' hand.

Stiles looked down at where their hands connected, his brain not able to process the touch. He could see Jackson's fingers brush over his knuckles but he couldn't feel it. "Yeah, no, I'm sorry." Stiles shook his head and scrubbed his other hand over his face. "What were you saying?"

Jackson looked dubious but let it go as he launched back into his explanation of the talent show his uncle was letting him plan. Stiles tried to listen, even pinched himself to keep his brain on task, but his thoughts inevitably wandered back to Derek.

"So, what do you think?" Jackson asked a few minutes later.

"Oh." Stiles scrambled for an appropriate response. "Yeah, Jackson. That sounds great."

"Cool." Jackson nodded. "I'll put your name on the list."

Stiles probably should have asked what he'd volunteered for but he figured Jackson would remind him when the time came. Stiles nodded and offered occasional comments while Jackson droned on and on.

Eventually Jackson glanced at his watch and stood from the table. "I have to get back to work." he explained. "I'll text you."

Stiles nodded absently as Jackson walked away. When Danny came to clear their dishes away Stiles made himself stand and head for the loft. His feet dragged heavily beneath him, every step taking more energy than he could muster. It took him longer than normal to reach the loft and by the time he arrived Derek was already done stretching, his mouth set in an annoyed frown while he scanned through his iPod. He looked up when he heard Stiles' footsteps on the wooden floor, his frown slipping easily into a pleased smile at the the sight of him.

"Hey." Derek called, docking the iPod and moving toward him.

"Hey." Stiles answered, struggling to keep his tone casual.

Derek stopped a foot or so in front of Stiles, his eyebrows drawing together in question. "What's wrong?"

"Rough day." Stiles shrugged, skirting around Derek and purposefully avoiding his eyes.

Derek let him pass, didn't reach out to stop him with a hand on his arm. If Stiles didn't want to talk about it, Derek wouldn't force the issue. He understood the instinct to hold things in, to not want to talk about them out loud. "Okay." Derek turned to find Stiles stretching. "Are you up for practicing?"

"That's why I'm here." Stiles muttered.

Derek frowned, his eyes scanning over Stiles. He noticed the tight way Stiles was holding himself, the obvious tick in his jaw like he was trying to hold back something his brain wanted to get out. Since the first time they'd kissed, Stiles had been more relaxed with Derek. He was loose and pliable under Derek's hands, easily letting himself be guided in his steps. The tension between them had shifted from physical muscle tension into something felt far more in their chests, in their cores. But, now, Stiles was rigid even while stretching. His shoulders were drawn tight, his body curling in on itself in a way that made Derek think he was in physical pain.

"We can skip today if you're not feeling it. Do something else, if you want." Derek suggested.

"We don't have much time until the performance." Stiles said as though Derek needed reminding. "I haven't even learned the lift yet. We should practice."

The words were rational but Stiles' tone made Derek's hackles rise. Something was really wrong here, Derek was sure. But, Stiles didn't seemed inclined to talk about it. That feeling, knowing that Stiles preferred to shut him out, left Derek with a hollow sort of ache in his gut.

Stiles remained subdued as they ran through the routine and then did it again. Stiles had the steps memorized but the stiffly coiled way he was holding himself reminded Derek of the first week they'd practiced. Each time they finished the steps, completed the routine, Derek grew more and more agitated. With every dip, every turn, he felt the chasm widen between them, felt Stiles withdrawing further and further. Nothing went smoothly, every aspect of the routine effected by Stiles' mood and Derek's response to it.

When Derek spun Stiles out and then back, he reminded him to keep his head up and maintain eye contact. Stiles' head had snapped up so quickly he bashed Derek in the nose, which only served to engorge Derek's already inflated anger response. Opting to avoid physical pain, Derek decided to work on Stiles' sensitivity to his touch. There was a moment in the dance that required Derek to trail his knuckles along Stiles' neck and down his side. Every time they'd practiced it so far, Stiles had giggled when Derek's knuckles grazed over his ribcage. Stiles was ticklish in that particular spot, something that Derek would have been pleased to learn if not for the fact that Stiles bursting into a fit of laughter during their performance would accomplish nothing but to make both of them look foolish and incompetent. Figuring that rehearsing that particular move might make Stiles laugh and lift his mood, Derek turned Stiles and pulled him back against his chest. Stiles remained rigid in his arms but Derek pushed ahead. He grinned in expectation of the bubble of laughter Stiles would emit when Derek touched his side. The laughter never came. Instead, when Derek's knuckled grazed his ribs, Stiles squirmed away, forgetting altogether the way he was supposed to respond, much less the way he normally did.

"This isn't going to work like this, Stiles." Derek snapped, frustration and worry making him testy. He released Stiles and put some distance between them despite his brain screaming at him to do the exact opposite.

"Fucking tell me about it." Stiles bit out as he swiped his arm across his face, wiping away the sweat that drenched his hairline.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Derek asked, unsure he really wanted to hear the answer.

Stiles sighed, shaking out his limbs to try and loosen them. "Nothing, Derek. Don't worry about it. Let's go again."

Derek wanted to argue, wanted to shake Stiles until he told him what was wrong, but he fought the urge. Instead, he took Stiles back into his arms and they went through the steps again. "Turn, turn, turn." Derek narrated the steps out loud, mostly to distract himself from the snarling mass of frustrated thoughts filling his head. "Dip back, roll forward, spin out, down, there's the lift but you'll learn that later, down, down, and-" Derek spun Stiles around so that they were nose to nose, and set up their finishing position. The move was complicated but Stiles had been managing it well for the last few practices. This time, when Derek bent Stiles backward in a smooth arc, close enough to the ground that Stiles' fingers grazed the floor, Stiles wasn't supporting himself properly. His thigh was hitched too low on Derek's hip, causing a muscle to twinge painfully in his lower back when it overextended. Pain shot through Derek, making his eyes water.

"Jesus, Stiles!" Derek barked, his hand dropping to his lower back to rub at the muscles. "Are you trying to kill me? You need to concentrate! Is physically injuring me your idea of fun?"

"Yes, Derek." Stiles yelled, his emotions bubbling over. "As a matter of fact, it is. We're supposed to do the show in less than a week! You won't show me lifts, I'm not sure on turns, and I'm doing all this to save _your_ ass when all I really want to do is kick it."

Derek bit his tongue to stop the angry retort from passing his lips. He sucked in a deep breath to calm himself before he responded. "Let's get out of here, then." he finally suggested, his tone heated but level. "We've been at this for hours. Let's go." Derek crossed the room to snatch his leather jacket off a table and dug through the pockets to find his car keys. When he reached the door he looked back over his shoulder at Stiles. "Are you coming or what?"

Stiles looked like he might shout again, but he nodded jerkily and followed Derek to the employee parking lot. Stiles had to admit that his mouth dropped open in surprise when his eyes fell on the shiny, jet black Camaro Derek apparently drove.

"This is your car?" Stiles asked, for a moment forgetting that he was angry with Derek.

"It is now." Derek shrugged as Stiles dropped into the seat beside him. "It belonged to my father. He bought it after my parents got married and rebuilt it himself."

Stiles ran an appreciative hand over the dashboard, his eyes wide with awe. "It's gorgeous. You know what I drive?" Stiles turned in his seat so he could face Derek. "The Jeep that my mom drove all throughout high school. I got it after Isaac bought his hybrid."

Derek snorted as he threw the car in gear and peeled out of the lot.

Stiles slipped further back in the leather seat and let his head fall back against the headrest. He was quiet for longer than Derek thought he was capable of. "Where are we going?" he asked eventually, his head lolling to the side so he could look at Derek.

"You wanted to learn lifts." Derek told him, as he turned onto an empty, winding road and gunned the engine.

"Am I going to survive long enough or are you planning on driving us off a cliff, lead foot?" Stiles eyed the steep drop off on one side of the road warily.

Derek smirked but eased up on the accelerator until the needle dropped below sixty. Neither of them spoke again until Derek pulled off onto a dirt road and followed its path to the end. He put the car in park and dropped his keys into the center console before leaving the car.

Stiles scrambled to follow, tripping over his feet once but maintaining his upright position. Derek noted that some of the tension had bled out of Stiles, that he was more relaxed now that they were away from the resort. Derek led him down a path he'd walked a thousand times to a shallow creek. Derek kicked off his shoes and tugged off his socks, leaving them in a neat pile beside a tree that had fallen across the creek, creating a bridge from bank to bank. Stiles watched Derek climb gracefully up onto the log, finding his balance before striding out to the middle and turning back to face Stiles.

"Are you coming up?" Derek asked, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Stiles followed Derek's example and shucked his shoes and socks before clambering awkwardly onto the fallen log. Unlike Derek, Stiles sank down on the end of the make-shift bridge, one leg on either side of its trunk. Derek shook his head in mock disappointment but didn't say anything.

Stiles watched Derek walk back and forth on the tree, his heart leaping into his throat each time Derek swayed like he might fall. It wasn't a long way down and the creek was shallow, but it still made Stiles nervous.

Derek turned around to face Stiles, a gleam in his eyes as he made his way closer. Stiles bit his lip while he waited for Derek to reach him, his stomach doing odd little somersaults. Derek leaned forward, his eyes full blown glittering in the sunlight, and crooked a finger at Stiles, beckoning him up. Just like the first time he'd done it, Stiles' heart flipped over. How was the simple crook of a finger so absurdly sexy? Despite his confusion over what Isaac had told him and his anger at Derek for not telling him himself, Stiles stood and took Derek's proffered hand.

"Just don't look down." Derek grinned as Stiles started to do just that.

"Thanks for the tip, dickhead." Stiles rolled his eyes, which of course made him lose his footing.

Derek reached out and caught Stiles by the hip, keeping him upright. "The most important thing to remember in lifts is balance." Derek told Stiles. "If your balance sucks, the lift will suck."

"Well, then we're both fucked." Stiles mumbled, casting his eyes down and away.

"No, we're not." Derek assured him. "You just gotta practice. Once you can walk across this log three times in a row without losing your balance, I'll teach you lifts."

Stiles eyed him speculatively, wondering if he could make Derek hold up his end of the bargain even if Stiles failed. "Deal." Stiles agreed.

It took nearly an hour but Derek smiled proudly when Stiles managed to walk from one bank to the other without so much as a wobble in between. "See?" Derek ran his fingers through a beaming Stiles' hair when he reached the bank where Derek stood. "I told you you could do it."

Stiles leaned into the touch briefly before he remembered why he was pissed at Derek. He pulled away, clearing his throat and bent to pull his shoes back on. Once he finished that task, and noticed that Derek had done the same, he gestured for Derek to get to the next training exercise.

Derek sighed but tucked his hand into the pockets of his track pants and led Stiles along a path through the trees. Stiles stepped into a clearing right behind Derek. Looking up, he realized they were on the edge of a massive open field. It took him a moment but Stiles eventually noticed that one side of the field was actually a lake, its waters still and calm. The grass around the lake's shores was high but not high enough to inhibit their movements. Derek motioned for Stiles to follow as he picked his way through the grass into the center of the field.

"I'm going to stand over there." Derek explained, pointing a few feet away. "And you're going to stand here. When I tell you to you're going to run at me, okay? It's just like running and jumping into someone's arms, except when you launch you need to bend your knees a bit more and push off hard. When I catch you, instead of wrapping your legs around my waist or me supporting your weight with my arms around you, I'm gonna lift you above my head. We'll practice the lifting part before I explain how to hold it once you're up, alright?"

"Sounds easy enough." Stiles nodded, wondering why the hell Derek had made such a big deal about lifts if it was that simple.

Derek's familiar, smugly superior smirk slipped into place. He turned on his heel and put some distance between himself and Stiles. "When you're ready, come at me." Derek told him, motioning Stiles forward.

Stiles took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders and shaking out his hands. He met Derek's eyes, asking a silent question to which Derek nodded. Stiles didn't hesitate. He rushed forward toward Derek's waiting arms. He bent his knees and pushed off from the ground about a foot from where Derek stood with enough force to propel him the rest of the way. Derek caught him around the waist, his hands spreading wide over Stiles' abdomen as he lifted him up, stopping when his eyes were level with his hands.

"Good." Derek praised as he set Stiles back on his feet. "Let's do it again." He jogged backward, increasing the starting distance between them. "Go."

This time when Stiles ran at Derek, he did hesitate. Derek caught most of Stiles' weight in the chest, his hands coming up to Stiles' sides to steady him. Stiles muttered angrily at himself under his breath, fighting the blush that rose up his throat with everything he had.

"It's okay, Stiles." Derek assured him kindly, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles into Stiles' waist where his hands still rested.

Stiles jerked back, moving back to his starting position. He thrust a hand through his hair, his other hand clenching into a fist at his side. "Again." he insisted.

"Stiles." Derek's tone demanded that Stiles look up. When he did, Derek's face was soft, his mouth tipped down in a frown. "What's going on?"

"I don't know what you mean." Stiles deflected, the memory of his confrontation with Isaac burning bright and harsh in the front of his mind.

"You're lying." Derek's eyebrows knit together and he took a few steps closer.

Stiles held his ground, mostly thanks to the rise of confusion and sharp stab of pain that hit him at Derek's expression. He didn't understand how Derek could look at him like that, all warm and concerned, like he actually cared, when he was fucking around with Kate behind Stiles' back. Stiles wasn't stupid. He and Derek hadn't made each other any promises, hadn't talked about being exclusive or even talked about their... _thing_ , at all. But, Derek had definitely been jealous when he thought Stiles was dating Jackson, and that was before they'd even so much as kissed. Stiles didn't understand what he and Derek were to each other. He didn't understand where they stood, where they were going. And most of all, he didn't understand why all of it hurt so damn much.

"Stiles, talk to me." Derek had closed the distance between them while Stiles was distracted. He reached a hand out, intent on giving Stiles' shoulder a supportive squeeze but faltered when Stiles flinched back.

"It's nothing, Derek. Seriously." Stiles shook his head, rubbing at the back of his neck in a gesture Derek had come to recognize as a reaction to nerves. "Let it go."

"It's not nothing. Something is bothering you, Stiles. Whatever it is, you can trust me." Derek said, ignoring the way his stomach knotted because of the way Stiles had cringed away from his touch.

Stiles snorted. "Really, Derek? Are you sure about that?" he asked bitterly.

Derek's mouth turned down, his frown deepening. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Come on, Derek." Stiles' resolve to not bring up Kate, to not make an idiot out of himself in front of Derek, crumbled. "Look, I know that whatever this," he waved a hand between their bodies, "is, it's not important to you, okay? I get it. I'm not delusional enough to think that someone like you would ever be satisfied with someone like me."

"Stiles, what-" Derek's face twisted in confusion.

"But, I thought that we could at least be honest with each other." Stiles barreled on, ignoring Derek entirely. "I thought we were friends. I mean, friends who make out and fall asleep wrapped up in each other and engage in some pretty heavy petting, but friends nonetheless."

"We _are_ friends." Derek interjected. "I thought-"

"We aren't." Stiles bit out, his anger quickly unraveling into something deeper, something sharper. "I can't be friends with someone I can't trust, Derek. And I definitely can't be whatever the fuck this was."

"Stiles, what are you even talking about?" Derek asked, his voice rising along with his frustration.

"Kate!" Stiles shouted, arms flailing around him. "I'm talking about Kate, Derek."

Derek jaw fell open, his mouth gaping with shock. Derek wasn't even aware that Stiles knew who Kate was.

"Yeah." Stiles snapped, his face flushed, red riding high on his cheekbones. "I know all about her."

"Stiles, whatever you think-" Derek tried when he found his tongue.

"Why didn't you just tell me, Derek?" Stiles questioned. The hurt in his voice made Derek's chest ache. "Why couldn't you be honest with me about her? I had to find out from my brother for fuck's sake! Do you have any idea how embarrassing it was to find out you're fucking Allison's aunt from my brother? Especially when said brother knows that you and I are- Were. You and I _were_."

"I'm not fucking Kate Argent!" Derek yelled, his voice booming through the clearing and startling more than a few furry woodland creatures into hauling ass out of there. "I don't know what Isaac told you or where he got his information, but he's wrong, Stiles."

Stiles' eyes narrowed and he huffed an unbelieving sigh. "So, you haven't been sleeping with her since you started working at Redwood? You haven't left a whole string of conquests in your wake?" he pressed.

"It's not... I'm not... This summer is different." Derek protested loudly. He was caught off guard by how much he needed Stiles to believe that.

"What's so special about this summer, Derek?" Stiles asked, sarcasm dripping from every word. "What makes it any different than the last four?"

"You, you idiot!" Derek shouted. "You're what's different, Stiles. Jesus Christ! And you say I'm oblivious."

"You expect me to believe that?" Stiles rolled his eyes. "Give me some credit, Derek."

"Do you want to know the last time I fucked Kate? Or anyone for that matter?" Derek took a step closer, his eyes serious and his jaw set determinedly.

Stiles swallowed thickly, his stomach rolling with indecision. He wanted to know but he absolutely didn't want to know at all.

Derek continued anyway. "June, Stiles. The end of June. I haven't touched anyone but you since then."

Stiles' eyes widened, his pulse skipping. "Why?" He had to ask. Even if he dreaded the answer, he craved it even more.

Derek closed the remaining distance between them, his hands coming up to cup Stiles' neck, just below the hinge of his jaw. This time, Stiles didn't flinch away. His eyes remained wary and guarded even as Derek's searched them, but he didn't move.

"Because by then you'd gotten under my skin." Derek told him, his thumb tracing the line of moles at the hinge of Stiles' jaw. "Every time you got within ten feet of me I couldn't think about anything, much less anyone, else."

"Why-" Stiles cleared his throat, trying to force his heart back into its rightful place instead of letting it lodge itself behind his Adam's apple. "Why didn't you tell me any of this? About Kate or any of it? I thought..."

"I know what you thought, Stiles." Derek frowned, his brows creasing. "But, I didn't want to put any kind of pressure on you. You're still young. You have a whole life ahead of you that I don't fit into."

"Who says you don't fit?" Stiles leaned into Derek's hands, savoring the warmth that spread through him from just feeling Derek's skin touching his.

Derek kept silent. He didn't want to tell Stiles that Derek himself was the one who said he didn't fit. It was Derek's own traitorous brain that told him he wasn't good enough for Stiles. He was too old, too broken, for someone like Stiles. Someone who still managed to see the good in people despite the world proving again and again that the human race was terrible as a whole. Someone who wanted to be a cop, not just because his father was but because he genuinely wanted to help people. Someone who saw the best in Derek even when Derek saw nothing but broken glass and scar tissue in his own reflection.

"Derek." Stiles broke into Derek's thoughts, his fingertips brushing Derek's hip hesitantly.

"I didn't tell you about Kate, or the others, because it's not something I'm particularly proud of." Derek admitted. "We were just getting started and I didn't want you to think less of me. And, maybe I didn't want you to think that you were one of them. Because you're not, Stiles. It's different with us."

Stiles cast his eyes down, chewing on his bottom lip as he waged war with the little voice inside his head that was screaming at him to trust Derek, to believe what he was saying. Even Stiles' gut wanted to take Derek at his word. If not for the part of him that was overly familiar with heartbreak and self-doubt, Stiles might have thrown himself into Derek's arms then and there.

"I want to believe you." Stiles nearly whispered, his fingers idly toying with the hem of Derek's black t-shirt. "But... Why would Isaac think you were still sleeping with Kate, if you're not?"

Derek thought it over, then shrugged. "I still give her dance lessons. Maybe he saw us together and assumed? Although, I don't know where he got that we were even sleeping together in the first place."

"Aiden." Stiles supplied, lifting his gaze back to Derek's. "He's also the one that told Isaac about... This." He jerked his chin between them.

Derek's eyebrows shot up. "I didn't know Aiden knew about us, at all."

"Neither did I." Stiles frowned. "I don't know why he even cares."

"He just wants to start shit." Derek skimmed his hand down Stiles' arm, then twined their fingers together. Stiles let himself be pulled into step beside Derek. "He's never forgiven me for talking sense into Lydia. When she broke up with him, right before she found out she was pregnant, he blamed me. He's not wrong, really, but it's his own fault. He never treated Lydia the way she deserves to be treated. All I did was make her see that."

The sun was starting to set, the sky turning a dusky shade of pink and orange as they slowly made their way around the lake. Stiles was lost in thought, bouncing back and forth between trusting that Derek was telling him the truth and doubting it with everything he had. He let Derek lead him around the edges of the water, hands still locked together, leaning into his side every so often.

"Stiles?" Derek called him from his reverie after making it halfway around the shore in silence.

"Hmm?" Stiles looked over at Derek, for a moment caught breathless by the way he looked in the fading sunlight.

"I just... You were wrong, you know. About this not being important to me." He tightened his fingers, giving Stiles' hand a squeeze.

Stiles couldn't help the flush that stained his cheeks. "Yeah?"

"You honestly could not be any more wrong." Derek stopped walking, stepping in front of Stiles to stop him, too.

Stiles looked Derek in the eye, searching his gaze for any hint of a lie. Seeing none, the band of anxiety that had been tight around his lungs for most of the day eased, just a fraction. He smiled a small, hesitant smile and dragged his thumb across Derek's knuckles. "I guess everyone gets it wrong sometimes." he said.

Derek shook his head, a relieved grin playing at his lips. "We just happen to excel at it."


	9. What The Silence Says

"Come on, Stiles. You were the one who wanted to go skinny dipping, remember?" Derek teased from the waist deep water, eyeing Stiles on the shore.

"This isn't skinny dipping sexyfuntimes, Derek!" Stiles protested even as he wriggled his gym shorts down his thighs, leaving himself in only a pair of Superman boxers. "This is me hoping you won't drop me on my head, while I try not to kick you in the face."

Derek chuckled, grinning as Stiles toed at the water's edge. He was glad to see that Stiles had slipped back into his more relaxed, comfortable state rather than the distant silence he'd adopted for the first half of the day. "I won't drop you." Derek told Stiles. "And really, even if I do, that's why we're doing this in the water in the first place."

"Right." Stiles rolled his eyes, edging further into the lake, sucking in a sharp breath as the chilly water lapped at his thighs. "Because a nose full of cold lake water is an acceptable alternative."

"To a cracked skull? Yes, it really is." Derek said. "Just concentrate on _not_ kicking me in the face and we'll be fine."

"Right." Stiles snorted, stopping an arms length away from Derek, his eyes trailing appreciatively over Derek's naked chest. "If you wanted me to concentrate, you probably should have left your shirt on."

"Stiles." Derek reprimanded fondly, fighting the urge to smile.

"I'm just saying. All that bare skin and glistening muscle? You're like a fucking Playgirl centerfold." Stiles poked at Derek's abs for emphasis. "The epitome of every horny teenager's wet dream."

Derek set his hands on Stiles' hips, his fingers spreading wide over the gentle slope of flesh. Stiles shivered at the touch, goosebumps erupting over his skin.

"Are you done?" Derek arched one brow in question.

Stiles grinned crookedly, considering the question before nodding his affirmation. "Yeah, I'm done. For now, at least. So, are we going to stand around until midnight or are you actually planning on getting me over your head at some point?"

"What do you think I've been trying to do for the last five minutes?" Derek inquired, huffing in resigned amusement. "If you would stop talking for thirty seconds we might actually manage to make some progress."

Stiles was full on beaming by then, his eyes bright with humor. "Well then, what are you waiting for?"

It was Derek's turn to roll his eyes, and roll them he did. Stiles thought Derek may have gotten a look at his own brain with how hard he managed to roll them.

"Hands on my shoulders." Derek instructed, settling his own hands on either side of Stiles' ribs, his fingers curling along the grooves between each bone. Stiles complied, turning his full attention, or as much as he was capable, on listening to Derek and learning the lift. "Okay. Remember what I said." Derek told him. "Arms out, chin up, point your toes, and try to keep your weight centered in my hands."

"Got it." Stiles gave a firm nod, repeating Derek's instructions in his head.

"Ready?" Derek asked, bending slightly at the knee to give himself the leverage to lift Stiles.

Stiles gave another nod, this one slightly more unsure but just as determined.

In one swift movement Derek lifted Stiles over his head, locking his arms and trying to balance the teen. Stiles flailed, arms and legs loose and chaotic around him.

"Stiles!" Derek warned while struggling to keep both of them upright.

His warning was lost, garbled up in Stiles' own yell as he pitched forward, crashing headfirst into the lake and knocking Derek backward in the process. Stiles breached the surface of the lake a second after Derek, sputtering and rapidly blinking water out of his eyes. Derek swiped his hands over his face and then through his hair, wiping away water as he went.

"Well." Stiles cringed apologetically, shutting one eye as a droplet slipped through his lashes. "That could have gone better."

Derek glared halfheartedly, not really angry but wanting Stiles to take training seriously. "Did you forget everything I just said, that quickly?

"I panicked!" Stiles defended himself, already moving back into position. "I'm sorry. Let's go again."

This time, when Derek had Stiles in the air, Stiles managed to hold the lift for a few seconds before losing it and diving into the water behind Derek.

"That was better." Derek told Stiles as soon as he popped up.

"Again." Stiles insisted, gripping Derek's shoulders with a face that denoted how intent he was on getting it right.

They repeated the lift, again and again, until Stiles could hold it for a full ten seconds without tipping forward or knocking Derek off balance. It took longer than either of them had anticipated and it was well past dark by the time Derek called it quits.

"I think you've got the hang of it. At least enough that we can practice on dry land for the next few days."

Stiles wasn't sure he agreed but was willing to defer to Derek on the subject. Glancing around them, Stiles took note of the lateness of the hour. If not for the waxing moon hanging high in the sky they'd have no light at all.

"We should probably head back." Stiles shrugged one shoulder tiredly. While they'd had training to focus on Stiles had been able to forget all the drama of the day, to just let himself enjoy spending time with Derek. Now that he was faced with returning to his cabin and spending an entire night with his disapproving older brother, he was feeling the day catch up with him. "I promised Isaac I'd hang out with him tonight."

Derek watched Stiles trudge through the water for a beat before following him to shore. He wasn't really sure where they stood at the moment, other than that Stiles knew now that Derek took their relationship seriously. Derek knew that whatever it was they were doing was building up to something bigger and he didn't want to do anything to jeopardize that. If space was what Stiles needed, Derek was more than willing to give it to him. Not happy maybe, but definitely willing.

As they made their way through the darkness back to Derek's car, nothing but trees and nocturnal animal calls as background fodder, Stiles could feel the way Derek's eyes kept skirting over him.

"Just because I can't see you, doesn't mean I can't feel that." Stiles reached out to brush his knuckles against the shadow walking beside him.

"Feel what?" Derek asked innocently, catching Stiles' hand and winding their fingers together.

Stiles snorted and squeezed the hand holding his. "You're not exactly covert with the eyeballing. I can always feel when you're watching me."

Derek was quiet, wondering if he should deny it. Eventually he softly asked, "Always?"

"Always." Stiles confirmed. "When we're at a party and you're across the room while I'm hanging out with Scott. When I'm practicing and you're pretending to gauge my progress. When I'm dancing with Lydia or Erica. It's like flames licking at my spine or fingertips trailing over my skin." Stiles finished with a shudder.

Derek inhaled deeply, letting that information settle in and take hold. "Here I thought I was being subtle." He grinned to himself just as the Camaro came into view.

"Subtle is, like, the last the thing I think of when I think of you." Stiles chuckled, his laughter mixing with the sound of Derek's keys jingling as he dug them out of his pocket. "Hell, I don't think you and subtle have ever been within a thousand yards of each other in my brain."

Derek was glad that the nearly pitch black night hid the wide smile he couldn't help but let split his face as he bent to unlock the passenger side door. "So, sort of like you and silence." he teased.

The dome light kicked on the moment Derek pulled the car door open and cast a dim glow into the darkness, illuminating Stiles' face enough that Derek could see the single hiked brow and the half-assed grin he wore. Derek smirked in response, tucking his hands into the pockets of his track pants and leaning one shoulder against the Camaro.

Stiles' crooked grin turned into a full blown smile when his eyes took in the sight of Derek. He was relaxed, no tension in his shoulders, no ever present scowl marring his gorgeously broody face. Derek was smiling, a self-satisfied and smugly knowing, but somehow still genuine, smile. Smiling Derek was someone Stiles couldn't resist, someone who made Stiles forget all the reasons he was supposed to be taking things slow and keeping walls up between them. Smiling Derek was Stiles' kryptonite.

Who was he kidding? Derek, in general, had quickly become Stiles' kryptonite.

"I can be silent." Stiles told Derek, mimicking his stance and letting the car hold him up. "In fact, you've seen me silent."

"Sleeping doesn't count, Stiles." Derek informed him. "Besides, you talk in your sleep."

"I do not!" Stiles guffawed indignantly, pushing at Derek's chest.

Derek bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from dissolving into laughter. "You absolutely do. You fell asleep before I did while we were watching The Avengers."

Stiles was surprised to hear that and filed it away for further analysis at a later date. Derek knowing that Stiles was asleep and letting him stay anyway deserved a few uninterrupted moments of consideration.

"Okay, smartass." Stiles leaned into Derek, amber eyes sparkling even in the barely there light. "What did I say then?"

"Sorry, that's between me and sleeping-Stiles. Strictly confidential." Derek shook his head regretfully.

Stiles laughed, nudging the toe of Derek's sneaker with his. "I'll get it out of you. I have ways of making you talk, Hale." When Derek looked decidedly unimpressed, Stiles added, "That wasn't what I meant, anyway. The sleeping thing."

"Well then, I'm at a loss." Derek shrugged. "When else have you ever been-"

Stiles cut off the rest of the question by pressing his lips to Derek's, swallowing the gasp of surprise that escaped. Stiles swept his tongue along Derek's bottom lip but didn't dive in, opting to nip at the pink fullness with his teeth, instead.

Derek was nearly breathless when Stiles pulled away, and lost what was left of his air when he caught sight of the smile Stiles wore.

"When you kiss me." Stiles all but whispered. "I can be silent when you kiss me."

 

_________________________________________________________

 

All the way back to his cabin Derek couldn't wipe the grin off his face, couldn't uncurl the lift of his mouth no matter how hard he tried. He didn't try that hard, really. After leaving Stiles on the path to his own cabin, after spending far too long, and not nearly long enough, kissing one another goodbye and reveling in the soft groans he managed to coax from Stiles' mouth, Derek couldn't be bothered with trying to pretend he was anything other than exactly as content as he truly was.

Derek let himself into the cabin, kicking his shoes off by the door and heading right for the shower. He wanted to wash off the lake water and the grime of sweat and dirt from his skin. He hoped that a shower might ease some of the buzzing under his skin, as well. Stepping through the bedroom doorway, he flicked on the overhead light and then dragged his shirt over his head by the collar and tossed it toward the hamper in one corner of the room.

"You were out late."

Derek sighed, shoulders falling as he lifted his head to find Lydia propped up against his headboard, his laptop open on her lap. "Practice." he offered by way of explanation, already going to his bureau to find a change of clothes.

"Stiles." Lydia corrected.

Derek could hear the smile in her voice, though there was something cooler lingering behind it.

"Stiles." Derek nodded, turning to face her with his pajamas tucked to his side.

"Go shower." Lydia pointed toward the bathroom. "We can talk after."

Fifteen minutes later, Derek emerged from the steam fogged bathroom in blue cotton pajama pants and a soft gray a-shirt, damp hair clinging to his forehead. Lydia was in the same spot, on the left side of the bed with a stack of pillows behind her while she watched something on the laptop screen. Derek crossed the room and plopped down beside her, crossing his legs at the ankle and clasping his hands behind his head.

"Talk." Derek grunted.

"You've regressed to monosyllables." Lydia said, pausing whatever she was watching and shifting on the bed so she could look down at Derek. "Something's bothering you. Did something happen with Stiles?"

"Stiles is... Despite Aiden's best efforts, we're fine." Derek rolled his head to meet Lydia's eye. He didn't miss the way her body tightened when he said Aiden's name.

"There are two things about that sentence that require clarification." Lydia closed the laptop and set it on the nightstand before sliding down the bed to settle beside Derek. "What did Aiden do now, and since when are you and Stiles a 'we'?"

So, Derek explained what Isaac told Stiles and what Stiles and Derek had eventually talked about. Lydia's mouth flattened into an irritated line but she kept silent while Derek talked.

When he finished and returned his gaze to the ceiling, they laid together in relative silence until Lydia spoke up. "I'd like to say I'm surprised that Aiden would do something so petty but I'm really not. I'm sorry he's taking this out on you."

Derek shrugged. "I'm not worried about it. I should have told Stiles myself when we started..."

"Being a 'we'?" Lydia supplied, bumping his shoulder with her own.

Derek let out a rough exhale. "I don't even know what we are, Lydia. I don't know what he wants us to be."

"What do _you_ want you to be?" she asked, turning onto her side so she could watch his profile.

A gravely sound vibrated in Derek's throat. "Together." he mumbled. "Whatever that means."

"Derek." Lydia laid a hand on his chest, smiling softly when he turned to look at her again. "Are you in love with Stiles?"

Derek didn't answer, just kept his eyes on hers and let his lack of response speak for itself. He wasn't sure what he would have said, regardless. His racing heart and stuttered breath were more than enough for him to know that Lydia's question was right on the money. Somehow, somewhere along the way, Derek had fallen for Stiles.

It wasn't a feeling he knew, never having felt it before. It was more the absence of familiarity that told him what he was really feeling. Being in love was something Derek had never so much as even considered. Even when he and Lydia were together in high school, Derek had known that he wasn't in love with her. It was part of what made it so easy for them to be as close as they were in the present day. None of the people Derek had been with after Lydia had made him wonder if he were in love, either. At one point, Derek had even wondered if falling in love with someone was something he was capable of.

Derek had loved, of course. He loved his family, blood and chosen alike. He loved his friends, he loved his car, he loved the puppy his parents bought him for his eighth birthday, whose ashes now resided in an urn on the mantle in his apartment back home. But, knowing how to love and knowing how to be _in love_ were two entirely different concepts.

Derek always wondered if it would happen to him. He thought about it a lot when he was little, especially when he watched his parents together. His mother and father were the kind of couple everyone else wished they could be. They loved each other fiercely, something that Derek and his sisters had known even back then. Their relationship was overflowing with love and laughter, bright and warm even when they were angry with one another. Derek could remember listening to his parents taunt and tease one another simply to illicit a response, never to hurt each other but in genuine affection. He recalled his father chasing his mother around the backyard, cursing her name and the day he married her, and all the while both of them just kept smiling. Even when his father caught her and swung his mother up in the air, drawing her into his chest and smiling down at her, they had laughed and kissed and tumbled down into the grass in a happy tangle of limbs.

A relationship like his parents was what Derek had always hoped to find while he was growing up. But, after his parents and his sisters had been killed, Derek gave up. Not because he didn't think he deserved to live happily ever after because most of his family was dead. Not because he didn't think he _could_ love someone after having loved his family so completely and then having lost them. No... Derek _chose_ not to want it. He chose to not search for someone to spend his life with because he was terrified that if he did somehow manage to find them, if he fell in love and built a life, that he would lose it. Losing almost everything that meant something to him was a blow Derek didn't think he could survive twice.

And so, Derek chose to be alone. He filled his life with family and friends, work and casual sex, and it had worked for him. His life was going according to plan, no surprises and no more broken hearts.

Until he met Stiles.

"You don't have to say it, Derek." Lydia assured him, drawing him back into the present after the silence had stretched on too long. "I can see it all over your face. Just... Be careful."

Derek wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. "I think it's a little late for that."

Lydia snuggled her head onto his chest, curling her delicate fist under her chin. "I don't want to see either one of you get hurt." she told him softly. "You deserve to be happy, Derek. And, if Stiles is the one that does that for you, then I think you need to see where it goes."

"New York." Derek sighed.

"What?" Lydia asked without lifting her head, though he could hear the confusion in her voice and feel it in the way her spine tightened just a fraction.

"Stiles. He's going to New York for school." Derek explained.

"That's weeks from now." Lydia relaxed back against him. "You have time to figure things out before then. Enjoy the time you have, while you have it."

"And when the summer's over?" Derek asked, not sure he even wanted an answer. "What do we do then?"

Lydia sighed, her breath warm through the fabric of Derek's shirt. "Hopefully, by then, you know where both of you stand and you can come up with something that works for you. I know it's hard for you to do, Derek, but you have to trust that things will work out the way they're supposed to."

"You still believe that? After everything that's happened to us, you honestly believe that?" Derek questioned.

Lydia gave a short, humorless laugh. "I have to."


	10. Standoffs And Stalemates

Stiles lay sprawled out across a patch of grass, the night's cooling breeze skimming over his skin and counterbalancing the warm flush of alcohol. His eyes scanned the inky black sky stretched out above him, his attention bouncing from one constellation to another. Isaac nudged his brother with his elbow from his position at Stiles' side. Stiles sat up and took the joint Isaac offered, inhaling its pine sweet smoke and holding it in his lungs for a beat before exhaling a thick, velvety cloud.

"Did everything I told you this morning just go in one ear and out the other?" Isaac asked, already lifting the bottle of Jack to his lips.

"No." Stiles coughed, shaking his head. "I talked to Derek about it."

"And?" Isaac pressed, taking the joint from between Stiles' fingertips.

"And," Stiles rubbed the heel of his hand over his sternum, trying to ease some of the burn, "we're good. Derek's not who you think he is, Isaac."

Isaac rolled his eyes in disbelief. "Right. Let me guess? He told you that he never slept with Kate and Aiden's just being a dick?"

"No, he definitely slept with Kate." Stiles laughed. And, how proud was he that he could laugh at that? "But, he's not anymore. He's not sleeping with anyone, actually."

"Really, Stiles? You actually bought that?" Isaac shoved him, knocking him sideways before Stiles could catch himself.

"Hey!" Stiles flailed uselessly for a few seconds before giving up and letting his limbs land wherever they deemed fit.

"You are so naïve if you think that Derek isn't still fucking around." Isaac told him as he stubbed the joint out on the sole of his sneaker.

"Give me some credit, Isaac." Stiles lolled his head to one side so that he could glare halfheartedly up at his brother. "I'm not stupid, okay? Derek said that he's not, and I believe him. Now, can we stop talking about my borderline nonexistent love life and talk about literally _anything_ else?"

Isaac chuckled, running a hand through his blonde waves.

"What?" Stiles asked, grinning despite himself. "What's funny?"

"You said 'love life' instead of 'sex life'." Isaac pointed out, laughter ringing in every word. "No wonder you're buying his bullshit."

"What the fuck are you even talking about?" Stiles kept grinning, though he could feel warmth blooming up the back of his neck.

"I though you weren't stupid, little bro?" Isaac took a long draught from the bottle before offering it to Stiles and continuing, "Look, if you trust Derek then who am I to argue? If you're wrong, you're the only one who ends up hurt." He paused, considering. "Wait, I take that back. Derek will get hurt too, when I kick his ass for breaking your heart."

"Aww! You do love me!" Stiles interjected, smiling broadly.

Isaac slapped the back of his hand against Stiles' chest. "Shut up. My point is, you have good instincts. You take after Dad for that." Stiles preened under the compliment. "If you believe him, you believe him. But, don't let your feelings cloud your judgment."

"Feelings?" Stiles made an unattractive noise of disbelief somewhere in the back of his sinuses before taking a swig of Jack. Isaac wasn't wrong but Stiles was still in the "No fucking way am I falling in love with Derek Hale" phase of denial.

"Oh my God." Isaac laughed, falling back onto the ground beside his brother. "Don't even bother, Stiles. I've known you your entire life, idiot."

"So?" Stiles was not pouting, damn it. He wasn't.

"Hell no." Isaac shook his head to the negative, smirk firmly in place. "No way am I going to be the one to burst that particular bubble."

Stiles returned his full attention to the midnight sky, then. Isaac stayed quiet beside him, his presence enough to let Stiles know that he wasn't alone. He was surprised, actually, that Isaac had given up the anti-Derek crusade so easily. Stiles found himself wondering what else Aiden might have said, but he decided he really didn't want to know. He was also absurdly pleased with the idea that Isaac trusted him enough to trust his judgment when it came to Derek. Stiles had expected Isaac to yell at him, to tell him what a moron he was for believing a word Derek said. Anything really, except for the easy acceptance Isaac gave Stiles there, sprawled out on the grass.

Stiles deliberately pushed away thoughts of his own feelings, choosing to focus on the fact that his big brother, the only guy other than his father that Stiles had ever really looked up to, threatened to fight a guy twice his body mass for the sake of his baby brother's feelings. Knowing that Isaac had his back no matter what is what filled Stiles' chest with a lightness and warm buzzing feeling. It absolutely and most definitely had nothing to do with Stiles' remembering how Derek had looked with the fading evening sun lighting up his face, or the way Derek's lips felt pressed against his.

Nothing at all.

 

\-----------------------------------

 

When Stiles shuffled into the loft the next day, all bedhead and bloodshot eyes, Derek was surprised by the strength of the wave of warmth that flooded through his limbs. From the center of his chest to the tips of his fingers and toes, Derek was enveloped in soft, glowing heat.

"You look like hell." Derek informed him, his eyes dragging down Stiles' body anyway.

"I'm fucking gorgeous, who are you kidding?" Stiles shot back, collapsing into a tangled heap on the floor a few feet away from where Derek stood. "Also, please stop yelling. There's no excuse for that volume at this hour."

"It's almost noon, Stiles." Derek raised his voice a little just to hear Stiles whimper. "How much did you have to drink last night?"

"Too much, apparently. Isaac is a bad influence and a horrible enabler." Stiles mumbled, his voice furthered muffled from his face being buried in the crook of one elbow. "I need coffee and a cheeseburger."

"That is probably the worst combination of things in the history of things." Derek grimaced, his nose wrinkling in distaste.

"Don't judge me, Derek. I am who I am and you're just going to have to accept that." Stiles groaned, rolling onto his back and tossing one arm over his eyes. "Can you turn the sun off? He and I are having an almost entirely one sided standoff, but I refuse to break."

"That's not the sun, dumbass." Derek told him, but crossed the room to turn off the overhead light anyway, casting the room in shadows.

Stiles pulled the arm away from his face, squinting up at Derek. "My hero."

"We're not going to get any practice in until I feed you, are we?" Derek questioned, dropping onto the floor beside Stiles, tucking his feet underneath the opposite thighs.

"Hell of a deduction, Sherlock." Stiles grumbled, shifting around until his head was cradled in Derek's lap. He lifted one of Derek's hands and settled it, palm down, on his own forehead. Derek took the cue and ran his fingers through Stiles' hair, his nails trailing feather-light on Stiles' scalp. Stiles hummed contentedly, the sound vibrating through him and into Derek. "Or, we can say screw practice and you can just keep doing that until the zombie apocalypse inevitably begins."

"Or your father finds us and shoots me."

"Whichever comes first." Stiles shrugged.

Derek tightened his fingers in Stiles' hair, tugging just this side of gently.

"Ow." Stiles whined, swatting at Derek's leg. "Rude."

"Says the guy who's totally okay with his father shooting the guy he's..." Derek trailed off, not really knowing how to finish the sentence.

"Kind of dating?" Stiles filled in the blank, opening his eyes just enough to see Derek nod, a tentative smile curling his lips. "One, he wouldn't actually shoot you. He'd do a lot of glaring and general disapproving, but he's not violent by nature. And two, are you seriously afraid of my dad?"

"Are you kidding?" Derek asked, resuming the threading of his fingers through Stiles' silky locks. "Your father is terrifying, Stiles. You can't pretend that either of your parents are going to be okay with this."

"Maybe not at first." Stiles allowed. "But, they'll come around eventually. Isaac already has. Kind of. I'm not really sure, actually, where Isaac stands on this whole thing. He didn't give me as much shit as I thought he would, but he did promise to kick your ass if you hurt me. I guess that's sort of like acceptance, right?"

"That's your brother, not your parents." Derek pointed out, though internally he was absurdly pleased that Isaac hadn't tried to warn Stiles off or threatened to tell their parents. After a few seconds hesitation Derek asked, "Are you... Do you plan on telling them about us? Your mom and dad?"

Stiles tensed, squirming uncomfortably where he lay.

"Do they not know you like guys?" Derek asked softly, his fingertips trailing behind Stiles ears.

"No, they know." Stiles explained. "They're fine with that. I mean, both of their sons are into both sexes. It'd be supremely awkward if either of them were against it."

"But?"

"No but." Stiles sighed. "It's not a but. It's just... My parents are, like, absurdly overprotective with me. I don't know if it's because I'm the baby or if they just don't trust me to make good decisions, but they have a bad habit of making all of my choices for me. And you, in all your stubbled, leather clad glory, are not exactly the kind of guy they would like to see me with."

Derek's fingers stilled in Stiles' hair, his stomach twisting sharply.

Stiles scrambled up into a sitting position, his knees bumping against Derek's as he faced him. "Don't do that." Stiles admonished gently, fear glinting deep in his golden irises. "Don't for a second think that you're not what I want, Derek. Just because my parents would rather see me with someone like Jack-"

Stiles cut himself off, cringing.

"Someone like Jackson." Derek ground out, his jaw ticking.

"Derek." Stiles reached for him, his hand falling over Derek's where they were clenched on his thighs. When Derek met his eye, Stiles continued, "What my parents want, and what I want, are different things."

"Right." Derek huffed, his throat feeling too tight to swallow. "Which is why you're going to be a lawyer instead of a cop, right? Because that's what you want?"

"That's... That's not fair." Even as he said it, Stiles knew that Derek was right.

Derek pushed himself up from the floor, heading for the table against the wall and pulling his jacket on over his black t-shirt. "Come on." Derek held a hand out to pull Stiles up.

"What? Where are we going?" Stiles asked as he stood.

"Into town." Derek informed him. "You need to eat so we can practice."

"But-"

"No, Stiles." Derek cut him off, his tone resigned and edged with command. "We're not doing this now. Let's get through the next few days, get through the performance. Afterward, if we still... If you still want to do this, we'll talk about it. Until then, forget about it."

Stiles hesitated, his brain screaming at him to fix whatever was breaking before it broke. "Derek, plea-"

"I know a place that has great burgers." Derek stood in the doorway, his fisted hands shoved deep into the pockets of his leather, his posture almost daring Stiles to argue.

Stiles eyed him warily, asking himself how they always seemed to end up here. Wondering how every one of their conversations ended up with one, or both, of them holding too much back, leaving too much unsaid. Why did every interaction end up in some kind of one step forward, two steps back dichotomous stalemate?

"Fine." Stiles gave one tight nod, and then stepped past Derek, out into the punishing sunlight.

 _So much for refusing to break_ , Stiles thought regretfully.

 

\---------------------------------------

 

"Hey losers." Erica greeted, dropping into the seat beside Stiles as he drank deeply from a bottle of water. "How was practice?"

"Derek has decided to embrace his sourwolf tendencies and is being a jackass." Stiles informed her, leaning heavily against the back of his chair, wiping sweat from his forehead with a towel.

"And you're somehow surprised by this turn of events?" Boyd quirked a brow at Stiles, glancing over his and Erica's heads to grin at a scowling Derek.

"Not particularly." Stiles lifted one shoulder then let it drop. "I figured the rainbows and unicorns couldn't last forever. I was, however, hoping it would last through the day, at the very least."

"Then you shouldn't have said what you said." Derek groused, earning himself an eye roll of epic proportions from Stiles.

"Uh oh." Erica swiveled in her seat to glance between Derek and Stiles. "What did you do, Stiles?"

"I didn't do anything!" Stiles protested, throwing his hands up in defense.

"Go ahead, dick. Tell her what you said." Derek crossed his arms over his sweaty chest, eyes narrowing as they fell on Stiles.

"I don't care how angry it makes you, Derek, everybody knows Christoper Reeve is the best actor to ever play Superman." Stiles tossed out over his shoulder, not bothering to turn around to catch the glare Derek directed at the back of his head.

"You're actually arguing that?" Boyd asked incredulously. "I thought that was universally accepted."

"Thank you!" Stiles stuck a fist out for Boyd to bump.

"Who did you say?" Boyd inquired, touching knuckles with Stiles without taking his eyes off Derek's annoyed face.

"Tom Welling." Derek and Erica answered in unison.

Boyd frowned. "I'm disappointed in both of you."

"You guys only picked Welling because he's hot." Stiles accused, finally turning in his chair to meet Derek's eye.

"Reeve was hot back in his Superman days." Erica allowed, tapping a finger to her lips thoughtfully. "But, Welling has that giant puppy dog thing going on. All floppy black curls and big blue eyes. It works for me."

"He played the role well." Derek defended his choice, walking closer to where Stiles and Erica sat. "Welling gave Clark Kent a softer aspect, something we didn't get to see from Reeve. Reeve was a better Evil Superman, I'll give you that."

Stiles leaned his head back to rest against Derek's stomach when he stopped right behind Stiles' chair. Head back, chin up, Stiles met Derek's eyes, a smile playing at his lips. "Finally, something we agree on."

"Don't get used to it." Derek told him, but there was teasing in his tone.

"Ugh, you guys are fucking adorable. Stop it." Erica slapped at Stiles' leg, grinning despite her own objection.

_________________________________________

 

"Relax, will you? If you keep fidgeting I'm going to stab you with a pin." Lydia reprimanded as she poked a straight pin into the cuff of Stiles' charcoal slacks.

"Sorry." Stiles apologized. "Please don't accidentally jab holes into my ankles."

"Who said anything about accidentally?" Lydia inquired, one eyebrow hiked.

"What's with the women in this place? You're all the devil." Stiles grinned but held still.

A few minutes of concentration and adjustment passed before Lydia spoke again. "Hey, Stiles?" she began, her voice small.

"Hmm?" Stiles responded distractedly, watching Lydia's fingers fiddle with the button of his sleeve.

"Thank you."

The words were so soft Stiles would have missed them if her cabin hadn't been so quiet. "For what?" he asked, his eyebrows drawing together over confused eyes.

"Everything." She shrugged but Stiles could tell the gesture wasn't nearly as carefree as she wanted him to believe. "For asking your dad for the money. For spending your summer learning how to dance to bail me out of a situation I should have been smart enough to avoid in the first place. For keeping my secret even though you didn't even know me."

"You don't have to thank me, Lydia." Stiles stepped down from the chair he was precariously perched on so that he wasn't towering over the strawberry-blonde. "I'm glad that I could help. Aiden wasn't going to take responsibility, or do the right thing. You needed someone to look out for you and I'm happy to be that guy."

"You're not doing all of this just because it's the right thing to do, Stiles." Lydia smiled up at him, her eyes wide and watering. "You're doing it because you're a good man. I thought Aiden was too, you know? I though he loved me. I know he probably told you that the baby isn't his, that I couldn't know that for sure, but he's wrong. I wasn't with anyone else this summer."

"I don't need you to tell me that." Stiles told her firmly, his hand coming up to cup her cheek gingerly. "I know that you loved him and I'm sorry he turned out to be such a giant bag of dicks."

Lydia laughed, a choked sob that turned into a giggle without her permission. "You were sweet to me even when I was a huge bitch to you."

"Yeah well, what can I say?" Stiles shrugged swiping a thumb across her cheek to catch a tear that slipped through her lashes. "I've always had a soft spot for the mean ones."

Lydia paused, biting her bottom lip as if debating if she should let her words spill out. After a minute, she seemed to make up her mind. "He wasn't always mean, you know."

Stiles didn't need her to tell him they were no longer talking about Aiden. "He's not always mean, now."

"No, he's not. Especially not with you." Lydia smiled wetly. "He's smiled more this summer than he has since... Well, in a long time."

"It's a good smile." Stiles licked his lips, tugging on the end of his sleeves.

Lydia nodded her agreement, sinking down on the edge of her bed. Stiles settled down beside her, his side flush with hers.

"He's always had a great smile." Lydia told him, leaning into his side with her whole body. "I think he forgets that he can sometimes. Smile, that is. Life hasn't always been kind to Derek, Stiles. He lost almost his entire family in the blink of an eye. If it hadn't been for Melissa..."

"Scott's mom, right?"

Lydia nodded. "She didn't even hesitate to take us in. You know, I always thought I'd make a good mom, despite what a terrible parent my own mother was. But now, I realize that when I'm ready to be a mom, I'll be good at it because I had Talia and Melissa to teach me how."

"Talia is Derek's mother?" Stiles asked.

"Yeah. She and Melissa are the best mothers I never thought to ask for. I was just a street kid back then. I didn't know what it was like to be part of something, to have people want me around. My mom was a drug addict who preferred her revolving door of boyfriends over the company of her own daughter, and I never knew my father. I don't even think my mom knew him, really. But, from the moment I stepped into the Hale house, I felt like family. Did Derek ever tell you how we met?"

Stiles shook his head. Neither of them drew attention to the fact that Lydia had threaded her arm through the bend of Stiles' elbow, her head now resting on his shoulder, his chin brushing the crown of her head when he moved.

"There's a place in Wolfwicke, like a wildlife preserve. It edges onto the back of Hale property. I had a little camp carved out for myself after my mom kicked me out. I was sleeping in a tent in the middle of February, when Derek found me. Even in California, February nights can be brutal. But, I didn't know what else to do. Anyway, Derek was out for a walk with his dog, Echo, and I guess Echo must have picked up on my scent, or smelled food or something, because he led Derek right to me. Derek took one look at me, dirty and freezing, and brought me home with him."

Stiles swallowed thickly, a knot firmly lodged in his throat when he pictured Lydia in that situation. He couldn't imagine how hard it must have been on her, how alone and afraid she must have been. He suddenly understood why Lydia kept a safe distance between her and the rest of the world, until they proved they were worthy of being near to her heart. And to think that Derek didn't even hesitate to help her, to give her shelter from a world that wanted to make a punching bag out of her... Stiles heart ached with all of it.

"He hates when I say it, but Derek saved my life." Lydia whispered, tears slipping silently down her cheeks. "And I almost screwed up my second chance by getting pregnant. I let Derek down."

"Hey, no. Don't do that." Stiles pulled his arm free of hers, just long enough to wrap it around her shoulders and squeeze. "Everybody makes mistakes, Lydia. Derek isn't angry with you for this. You know that, right? He supports you in everything you do because he wants you to be happy. And if that means that you're not ready to be a mom, then he supports that too."

Lydia didn't say anything, choosing instead to snuggle in closer to Stiles' side, wrapping her arms around his torso. They sat quietly together, the occasional sniffle or shift of bodies the only sound in the room.

Eventually, Lydia spoke, her voice shaky and enough to make Stiles' heart break just a little bit. "I'm scared, Stiles." she admitted.

"I know." Stiles held her tighter, his hand running soothingly up and down her arm. "But, it's all going to be okay. Scott's going to go with you, and Derek and I will be here as soon as we finish at The Preserve. You're not alone, Lydia. I promise. Everything is going to be fine."

Even as he said the words, Stiles prayed they were the truth.


	11. The Cure For Scowling

The morning of their performance found Stiles obsessively running through every step in his mind as he made his way to meet Scott and Allison for breakfast in the main dining hall. He danced his way along the trails, correcting a step here, adjusting a movement there, and all the while his nerves kept jumping with nervous anticipation.

Finding their table, Stiles made a beeline for Scott and Allison, dropping into one of the two remaining chairs.

"Hey." he greeted, snatching a grape from Allison's plate and popping it into his mouth.

Allison rolled her eyes but smiled all the same. "You seem to be in surprisingly high spirits for someone who has to dance in front of a crowd for the first time in a few hours."

"Yeah." Scott nodded his agreement. "I thought you'd be freaking out by now."

"Oh ye of little faith." Stiles admonished, waving Danny over when he emerged from the kitchen. "I'm totally fine. Cool as a cucumber, my friends."

Danny took Stiles' order for coffee and a bagel with a smile and a nod before drifting away again.

"Have you seen Derek?" Scott asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Stiles snorted, mostly because Scott's innocent puppy dog eyes kind of threw off the salacious vibe he was going for. "He texted me before his shift but I haven't seen him since the night before last. I had a family thing I couldn't get out of."

"Oh, we know." Scott chuckled, glancing sideways at Allison who was smiling in that adorable and dimpled way of hers. "He was more scowly last night than he has been lately."

"I think he kind of missed you." Allison's smile edged into a grin and she tried to hide it by nibbling on a strawberry.

Stiles felt the pleased blush tinge his cheeks but couldn't bring himself to fight it. "Of course he did. I'm awesome. Who wouldn't miss this?" He waved a hand to indicate his fine self, grinning at the pair of them.

"Seriously, though." Scott sobered a little, his eyes softening. "Are you ready for tonight?"

Stiles shrugged, fiddling with his napkin just to have something to do with his hands. "I think so. I mean, yeah, I'm nervous, but Derek says I'm ready and he knows dancing better than anyone."

"You'll be great, Stiles." Allison reached a hand across the table to give his hand a supportive squeeze.

"So this is the famous Stiles, then." A husky female voice came from behind Stiles, making him jump and swivel on his seat.

Allison shot to her feet, rushing to put herself between them. "Aunt Kate. What are you doing here?" she asked.

Kate's eyes were trained on Stiles, her gaze intense and assessing as it swept over him. "Getting breakfast, sweetie." she drawled. "Same as you."

Just the sound of her voice made Stiles skin prickle uncomfortably. Sure, she was gorgeous and Stiles could absolutely see why Derek would have been attracted to her. The long curly hair, an ashy shade of blonde. The curvy shape of her, all long tan limbs and round hips. The confident way she held herself, relaxed and cocky in equal doses. But there was something sharp and cold behind her eyes, a glint of steel that spoke of a woman who knew exactly what she wanted and how to go about getting it, regardless of what or who got in her way.

"I've heard a lot about you, Stiles." Kate smirked, not moving any nearer but somehow closing in on him just the same.

"Have you?" Stiles asked, pleasantly surprised that his voice came out steady and even despite the fact that his heart was lurching in his throat.

"Mmhmm." Kate hummed, slipping her hands into the back pockets of her jean shorts. "I also hear that we have a friend in common."

"Kate..." Allison tried to tug on her aunt's arm, to pull her away from the table.

"You know, I heard that too." Stiles responded to the thinly veiled taunt with fire and ice in every syllable. "Although, I also heard that there are aliens in New Mexico. So, maybe you shouldn't believe everything you hear."

Scott snickered behind him and Kate's eyes flashed, her smirk growing wider. "That's a sharp tongue you've got there, kid." She sidestepped Allison and bent into Stiles' space, lowering her voice to nearly a whisper. "Just remember, the next time you're using it on Derek, that mine was there first."

Anger exploded in Stiles' chest and he surged to his feet, forcing Kate to give up ground. Scott flew around the table to grab Stiles' arm at the same time that Allison snapped at a grinning Kate and dragged her away from the table.

Stiles seethed, biting his bottom lip so hard that he drew blood without even feeling the sting.

"Come on." Scott pulled Stiles outside through a door on the opposite side of the dining hall from where Allison had disappeared with Kate.

Stiles fought to get his temper under control, reminding himself that Kate was Derek's past and that was something that he just had to accept. Of course, it would have been easier to accept without Kate flaunting it in Stiles' face, something he did not at all appreciate. It was a low blow and Stiles was relatively sure even Kate could recognize that fact. He briefly wondered if Derek would feel the same kind of jealousy laced anger if he were to be confronted with Stiles' past. He was willing to bet that Derek would have a similar reaction and, oddly enough, that thought helped to settle him a little. He let himself be led by the elbow up the path to the staff cabins where, after over five minutes of silent walking, Scott veered off onto a trail Stiles wasn't familiar with.

"Where are we going?" he asked, shoving down the lingering heat of his anger and trying to retrieve what was left of his good mood.

Scott let go of his arm as if he had only just accepted that Stiles wasn't going to turn around and go after Kate. "My cabin." Scott gestured vaguely toward the end of the path. "Thought you could use a distraction."

"Scott, I like you and everything but there's no way in hell I'm having sex with you." Stiles deadpanned, his eyes lit up with humor.

"Shut up." Scott shoved him, smiling with relief and genuine amusement. "I've got pot and a ps4. I don't need to use my body to distract you."

"Wouldn't work anyway." Stiles shook his head in mock-sadness, heaving an exaggeratedly heavy sigh. "Derek's body has ruined me for life. You might as well be a plank of wood, dude."

"I'd be insulted if I didn't already know that your brother thinks I'm hot." Scott chuckled as he climbed the couple of steps to his cabin.

After a second of being frozen in surprise, Stiles followed him inside and plopped down onto Scott's couch, scrubbing his hands over his face. "I don't even want to know. You know he's fucking around with Aiden right?" he called over his shoulder to where he'd seen Scott duck down a hallway.

"Yeah, I know. It's not serious, though." Scott yelled back, voice muffled by whatever he was doing.

"Wait a minute... Aren't you and Allison a thing?" Stiles asked, voice loud enough to carry.

"Yeah." Scott said from right behind the couch, startling Stiles since he hadn't heard him come out of the hall. "I'd explain but you said you didn't want to know." he shrugged, sitting down on the cushion next to Stiles and setting a small wooden box onto the coffee table.

"Well, now I'm intrigued." Stiles told him, watching as Scott took a bag and a glass bowl out of the box. "Just don't tell me anything about my brother's dick and we'll be fine. Huh. That's a sentence I never thought I'd say."

Scott snorted out a laugh, dropping a bud onto the table and breaking it up with his fingers. "Allison and I have been together since we were in high school." he explained. "Sometimes we have a third, sometimes we don't."

"Is it a sex thing?" Stiles asked out of genuine curiosity, angling his body to face Scott, his back against the arm of the couch and one leg tucked up under him, as Scott packed the bowl.

Scott took a hit then held the bowl out to Stiles before leaning back into the cushions. "Sometimes. I mean, it can be but it isn't always. Just like sometimes our third is a girl and sometimes it's a guy."

"So, it's like a case by case deal?" Stiles asked after he blew smoke out and passed back to Scott. When Scott nodded, Stiles asked, "What about with Isaac?"

"We both really like Isaac." Scott shrugged one shoulder casually but Stiles could hear the change in his tone, the fondness that wound around each word. "It's actually up to him at this point."

"That's way too much power for any one Stilinski." Stiles laughed. After a beat he asked, "Is it weird for cousins to date brothers? Like, is that some kind of societal rule that shouldn't be broken? Not that I care either way, I just like to keep a running tally of rules as I break them."

"Nah, man." Scott shook his head, his product-free hair flopping forward over one eye. "I think it's cool."

Allison chose that moment to burst into the cabin, cheeks flushed and an apology tripping from her lips. "Stiles, I am so sorry about Kate. If I'd have known she would-"

"Allison." Stiles cut her off, patting the space between him and Scott in invitation. When she sat between them, her back against Scott's side, Stiles gave her leg a reassuring pat. "It's not your fault so don't apologize. She was just trying to piss me off and I let her do it."

"I know, but I should have seen it coming. She's been like this ever since she found out about you and Derek. I think she's jealous to be honest." Allison sighed, accepting the bowl when Scott offered it to her.

"Of course she is. She'd be dumb not to be." Stiles grinned wickedly. "Have you seen Derek?" Stiles paused, tilting his head as a thought struck him. "Though, now that I think about it, I wonder if I should be worried about apparently everyone in this resort knowing about me and Derek."

"What do you mean?" Scott frowned. "You don't want people to know?"

"No, dude, that's not it at all. It's just... If everyone knows then eventually it's gonna get back to my parents, who I have yet to hit with that particular bit of knowledge. And then there's Finstock, who will inevitably flip his shit because of his whole 'No Fraternization with the Guests' schtick, which somehow only applies to the entertainment staff." He gnawed on the inside of his cheek, a little annoyed with himself for not thinking of that sooner. He didn't want Derek's job in jeopardy because of their relationship.

Stiles shook his head when Allison tried to hand him the bowl, knowing he had to have a clear head in a few hours and that wasn't going to happen if he spent all morning getting blazed.

"If it makes you feel any better, I don't think the entire resort knows." Allison told him, handing the bowl to Scott instead. "I'm pretty sure it's just us and the twins. And now Kate."

"Maybe you should tell your parents before they find out on their own." Scott suggested, pushing himself up from the sofa and heading for the TV stand.

Stiles watched Scott turn on his gaming console and return with two controllers, handing one to Stiles and dropping the other into Allison's lap.

"I've been considering it." Stiles admitted, recalling the way Derek had reacted the morning of Stiles' epic hangover. "I just... It's going to be a fight no matter what and I hate fighting with them, you know?"

Allison tilted her head, her shoulder-length hair spilling sideways as her eyes roamed over Stiles' face. "Want my two cents?" she asked.

Stiles hesitated but ultimately decided that it couldn't hurt to get another perspective. "Sure." he shrugged.

"Tell them." Allison smiled gently. "If you care about Derek half as much as I think you do, they're going to have to find out eventually anyway. The longer you wait to tell them the more upset they'll be that you hid it from them. Trust me." She laughed, "My dad still hasn't forgiven me for letting him find out about Scott and I having a boyfriend from the woman at the grocery store."

"It's true, man." Scott grimaced.

"Yeah." Stiles sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, forgetting the cut he'd made until the metallic taste of blood hit his tongue. "Yeah, maybe you guys are right."

"Hey, you don't have to do anything this second, right?" Scott pointed to the television, where the home screen of Need for Speed was displayed. "Hang out for a while, get your shit together, and then go dance your ass off."

Stiles laughed heartily, all at once thankful that he'd managed to find such good friends when he hadn't even been looking. Of course, that's how he stumbled across Derek, too, and he'd never been more grateful for anything in his life than he was for that particular development. Even if he hadn't gotten the chance _yet_ to tell everyone and anyone that Derek was his and he was Derek's, it didn't make it any less true. In the weeks Stiles spent at Redwood, learning to dance and figuring himself out, Stiles managed to find a place to belong, people to belong to.

Not bad for a summer vacation he hadn't even wanted to take.

"Yeah, okay." Stiles agreed, sinking back into the couch and letting himself relax. "So, whose ass am I kicking first?"

______________________________________

 

On his way back to his own cabin just after 2 o'clock, intent on taking a nap before he had to meet up with Derek, Stiles stopped by Lydia's place. She answered the door barefoot, her shoulders tight and drawn back. Stiles knew the sharpness in her expression wasn't for him, that the weight of her decision was pressing down on her so close to the actual procedure.

"How are you feeling?" Stiles asked as he crossed the threshold.

"Anxious, mostly." One side of Lydia's mouth tipped up, a halfhearted attempt at levity. "Really nervous." She wrung her hands together, her fingers tangling and twisting.

Stiles pulled her to his chest, tucking her head beneath his chin and wrapping his arms around her shoulders as hers went around his ribs. "I figured as much. Which is why I'm taking precious minutes away from my much needed nap to come here and remind you of just how strong you are. And to remind you how many people you have in your corner, people who will be here for you every step of the way."

"How could I forget that when I've had a steady parade of visitors and text messages since I got out of bed this morning?" Lydia asked, her voice muffled a little because of the way her face was pressed into Stiles' chest.

"As it should be." He smiled even though she couldn't see it.

Stiles was willing to bet the parade had kicked off with Derek before he started his shift and then slowly filtered through the rest of them. Their friends really were the best.

Lydia stepped back, tilting her head back to look up at Stiles. "Thanks for coming by, Stiles. I know you must be nervous too, about tonight."

"Oh, please." Stiles waved a hand dismissively. "I'm solid, okay? No worrying about me and Derek today, you hear me? Just focus on you and what you need to keep yourself calm. Allison will be down in a few minutes to keep you company until Scott finishes his shift. If you need anything, and I mean _anything_ , call me. Got it?"

Lydia nodded her understanding, a tiny but genuine smile curling her lips. "Got it."

Stiles turned to leave, one foot already out the door before he remembered to ask about his outfit for the performance.

"It's already in Derek's car." Lydia informed him. "Oh, and don't change until you get there or you'll wrinkle your pants."

Stiles didn't miss the commanding tone in her voice, the flare of her usual self letting him know that she would be just fine given the time to get there. He grinned to himself all the way back to his cabin, right up until he collapsed face first into his bed.

 

____________________________________________

 

The sun was hanging low in the sky, the world cast in soft shades of golden pink and soft burnt orange, by the time Derek finished with his last client and left the dance studio. After a quick shower and a change of clothes, he fired off a text to Stiles.

**_You ready?_ **

Having finished his prep for the night's performance, Derek had nothing to do but wait. He was too anxious to kill time by screwing around on the internet or watching any of the shows Lydia insisted he catch up on. Instead, he paced the span of his living room, counting steps and running through the routine as he went. His text tone sounded after only a few minutes.

**_Almost. Meet you at the car in 15?_ **

Derek didn't bother with a response, knowing Stiles didn't expect one. With one last glance around the cabin, Derek patted the pockets of his snug and faded black jeans to make sure he had everything. He snagged his costume from the where it hung on a hook by the front door and then started out for the parking lot.

It was barely sunset when Derek reached the Camaro, the sun less than halfway hidden behind the horizon. He popped the trunk and laid his garment bag over the one that was already there, the one that contained Stiles' costume.

He texted Lydia to let her know that he would see her when they finished and to remind her again that everything was going to turn out alright. She responded immediately, scolding him for fussing over her when he should be focused on the performance ahead of him.

Derek chuckled to himself, leaning against the car while he waited for Stiles to show up. He took a few deep breaths, rolling his shoulders to release some of the tension that had accumulated there throughout the day. He wasn't worried, exactly, about what they were about to do. Stiles had worked hard, had practiced long hours for weeks in order to get the routine right. The only move Stiles was still unsure of was the lift, but he still managed it well enough during practice. Derek was sure that they'd do well, that the performance would be great and he and Lydia would get to keep their jobs for another summer.

Derek wasn't worried about that. A little nervous, sure, but not worried.

He was, however, worried about Lydia. He hated that he couldn't go with her, even though he knew Scott would keep her safe in his absence. It just wasn't the same. Derek had always looked out for Lydia, had always been the one to step in when she needed it. Being unable to do so now left him with a hollow sort of feeling in his chest, even if there wasn't any way around it.

"None of that scowling bullshit tonight, Derek." Stiles' voice startled him out of his own head. "I'll tell knock-knock jokes the entire forty-five minute drive if I have to."

Derek grinned, pleasure at seeing Stiles, whose hands were on his hips and who had one eyebrow cocked in challenge, easily washing out the worst of his anxiety. He pushed away from the Camaro and toward Stiles, leaning in to steal a kiss before he even though about doing so. It was brief, a warm slide of skin against skin, but it packed a punch that caught Derek somewhere behind his navel.

When Derek pulled back Stiles was already smiling, his gloriously sinful mouth stretched into a perfect curve. Stiles winced a little, lifting a hand to his mouth and pushing gently at his lip. Derek's eyes fell to the motion, his eyebrows daring together in concern.

"What happened to your lip?" Derek asked, using the pad of his thumb to tug Stiles' lip down enough to get a look at the small cut on the inside.

Stiles reached up, wrapping his hand around Derek's to pull it away from his mouth. "It's nothing, just a little cut. Don't worry about it, okay?"

Derek was still frowning, his eyes flicking between Stiles mouth and his eyes. Stiles smiled again and leaned in to press another kiss to Derek's lips.

"Are kisses the secret to wiping out a scowl?" Stiles questioned when he moved away, his voice warm and all affection as his fingers stroked across Derek's ribs and his eyes lingered on the gentle smile curling Derek's mouth. "Because I definitely should have been informed of this sooner."

Derek gave a Stiles' hip a firm pinch before releasing him. "I was smiling before I kissed you." he pointed out, though he couldn't argue that the teen was wrong.

"Oh. So it's just seeing me that does it then?" Stiles smirked, his tone cocky.

"Get in the car, Stiles." said Derek, who was already sinking into the driver's seat while trying to ignore the fluttery feeling low in his gut.

Stiles laughed but did as he was told, settling into the passenger side a few seconds later. "Ready?" he asked, turning in his seat to face Derek.

Derek paused, fingers gripping the keys where they sat in the ignition but not turning. He looked over at Stiles, iridescent green eyes catching ones of liquid gold.

"Yeah." Derek smiled again, this time accompanied by a suspicious skip of his pulse. "Yeah, I really am."


	12. Was That A Declaration?

Stiles fidgeted with the buttons at his throat, tugging them free of their holes before growling under his breath and slipping them back in. The mirror in the changing room gave him a good look at his costume. He suspiciously eyed the well fitted black slacks made of some kind of impossible fabric that managed to cling to his hips, ass, and thighs, while simultaneously possessing the ability to stretch and give with his movements. He rolled up the sleeves of his silver-gray button-up, stopping just below his elbow like Lydia had shown him. In all honesty, he had to agree with her assessment; The black vest, with its cinched in waist and four perfectly aligned buttons, did amazing things for his body. It highlighted the wide set of his shoulders and the way it cut in at sharp angles above his belt buckle showed off his slim hips without detracting from their strength.

He was halfway across the room, satisfied with his outfit and ready to tie on his dancing shoes, when a light knock sounded at the door immediately followed by Derek stepping through. He was dressed similarly to Stiles, though his shirt was a deep shade of green and his vest stretched just a little tighter across his shoulders.

"Hey." Stiles grinned, not stopping in his path toward where his shoes lay in wait until he caught the way Derek was looking at him. "Oh God, what?" he asked, looking down at himself in fear that he somehow managed to miss a button or tear a hole in is pants or some other unforgivable sin to the Gods of fashion. "Did I spill something on my shirt? I swear, I haven't been near food since I changed."

Derek blinked slowly, his throat clicking as he swallowed. "I... No, you look great." he said, his voice a fair bit more hoarse than he intended.

"Thanks." Stiles smiled wide but inhibited, his cheeks tinging with a hint of pink. "Lydia did all the work, really. I just put it on and tried not to fuck it up." He tugged nervously at the bottom corners of his vest then smoothed his hands down his stomach to flatten out the nonexistent wrinkles.

Derek took a few compulsive steps forward, aware that he was moving but unable to stop himself. Stiles' eyes widened a fraction, his throat bobbing as he tried to swallow. There was something in Derek's eyes that made Stiles shiver, a predatory gleam, something that Stiles couldn't classify as anything but _hungry_.

Stiles cleared his throat and tried to open his mouth to speak but no words would come. His lips moved but no sound escaped, save for the high and breathy stutter of something that might have been Derek's name.

"You look... Jesus." Derek's eyes trailed slowly, appreciatively, down Stiles' body, his stomach clenching hotly when his gaze stalled somewhere around Stiles' hips. "Why even bother wearing pants?"

A startled laugh burst through Stiles' lips, his pink cheeks staining red. "I really hope that was a rhetorical question. Because, while I would much rather be pants-less, like, ninety-nine percent of the time, I somehow doubt that sentiment extends to dancing in front of a crowded ballroom."

Derek was so close by then that Stiles could feel the heat radiating from him, could smell the woodsy scent that was so entirely Derek it made Stiles inhale without conscious thought. Derek's eyes were dark, thin green bordering full blown black. Stiles' pulse was thundering in his head, nerves a tangled snarl of _Derek-dancing-Derek_ , his skin feeling too hot and too cold at the same time. The longer Derek went without speaking, the more restless Stiles felt. Every second ticking by made Stiles want to just grab Derek by the front of his vest and kiss him senseless if only to force a response out of him.

Derek lifted a hand to Stiles' face, surprising the teen into holding still. His eyes stayed locked on Stiles' gaze, pinning him to the spot like he was wearing cement shoes. Derek's stare never wavered, held steady when his knuckles ghosted along Stiles' jaw, dipped down to skim over his throat, the bump of his Adam's apple. Stiles shuddered when Derek's fingertips slipped beneath the collar of his shirt, popping loose the topmost two buttons.

"Leave them open." Derek instructed, his voice deep and his mouth so close that each word tickled Stiles' lips.

Stiles was lost for words, a feat not easily accomplished, so he simply nodded dumbly.

Derek closed the infinitesimal distance between them, pressing a warm, lingering kiss to Stiles' lips. Stiles swayed forward, his fingers coming up to hook behind Derek's belt and beneath the waist of his slacks, his body arching into Derek of its own volition. Derek groaned, his hands rising to curl around Stiles' jaw, dragging him closer. Stiles sighed at the contact, the sound tasting like burnt sugar on Derek's tongue. He took advantage of the opening, dipping into Stiles' mouth to sample straight from the source. Stiles opened eagerly, rocking his hips gently into Derek's as their tongues teased and taunted one another.

After a few minutes, Derek reluctantly pulled away. His eyes were soft but burning when he met Stiles' hooded gaze. "I came in here to tell you it was time for us to go on." he said, a half smile tugging at his lips.

"Oh." Stiles' teeth caught his bottom lip, biting down on a grin. "You probably should have led with that."

Derek brushed another kiss to Stiles' smiling mouth. "I got distracted."

"By pants." Stiles laughed, unable to contain it.

Derek rolled his eyes. "By the idiot wearing them." he huffed, a sound at direct odds with the way his thumb stroked softly at the corner of Stiles' mouth.

"Right." Stiles was still grinning when he let go of Derek's belt and moved away to search for his shoes. He found them lying beside a chair in the corner and delighted in the sharp intake of breath from behind him when he bent to retrieve them. "Just let me get my shoes on and I'll be good to go." he tossed over his shoulder as he slipped into the shoes.

Derek was too busy watching the way Stiles' slacks stretched and pulled to bother with a response.

 

_______________________________________

 

There couldn't have been more than sixty people in the ballroom, all of them seated at little round tables that were arranged in a half circle around a raised stage on one end of the room. There was no way there were more than sixty people. To Stiles, it really didn't matter. He felt like he was about to dance in front of a crowd of a thousand. For all the nervous energy coursing through him, his limbs abuzz with nerves and the need to move, to expel the pent up energy, it didn't matter if it was an audience of one or something akin to Woodstock.

Stiles was fucking nervous. He was panicking and anxiety riddled and Derek's calming hand at the small of his back, hot like burning even through three layers of fabric, was doing nothing to soothe him.

"Relax." Derek whispered, pulling Stiles back so that he couldn't continue to torture himself by peeking around the curtain to eyeball the crowd. "You're going to do fine, Stiles. Breathe."

"I'm going to trip over my own feet!" Stiles all but squeaked, his throat too tight to allow his normal voice to pass through. "I'm going to stumble or forget my steps or trip myself and then I'm going to faceplant on stage. In front of all of these people, who will inevitably laugh at my pain and mock me endlessly."

"Stiles." Derek kept his tone low and even, that honey-over-stone combination that never failed to draw Stiles' attention. It did its job, stopping Stiles' diatribe and making his eyes snap to Derek's face. "You are not going to trip, okay? You know this dance like you know the words to "Baby Got Back". You could do this in your sleep."

"Is that what I talk about in my sleep?!" Stiles questioned, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open in dismay.

Derek chuckled, deep and genuine. The sound slid through Stiles, filling his stomach with something thick and warm that coated the butterflies' wings and made them slow their fluttering.

"No, Stiles, you don't rap in your sleep." Derek shook his head fondly. "Look, I know how scary this is. I grew up dancing in front of people and the first time I performed like this I was so nervous my mom had to bribe me with homemade cookies to get me to even step foot on stage. Granted, I was ten, but the principal is the same."

Stiles narrowed his eyes, searching Derek's face. "Chocolate chip?"

"Oatmeal raisin." Derek told him, not bothering to smother his smile.

"Weirdo." Stiles scrunched up his face, his nose crinkling adorably.

Derek's smile got wider, reaching all the way into his eyes. "The point is," He took Stiles' hands in both of his, "it's okay to be nervous. Just don't let that stop you from doing what you came here to do."

Stiles inhaled a deep breath, dragging it into his lungs and holding it for a beat before blowing it out. He nodded, a rapid bob of his head, and then forced a smile into place. "You're right. Of course you're right. I can totally go out there and dance for those people. I've got this."

Derek waited, letting Stiles talk himself into it. They had another minute or so while the resort's staff finished programing their lights and set up their music. Derek let his thumbs rub soothingly over Stiles' knuckles, watching as Stiles drew his shoulders back, his spine pulling up straight.

The sound of a microphone kicked out from the speakers in the ballroom and a female voice announced Derek and Stiles' program.

"You've got this." Derek reminded Stiles, threading their fingers together and heading out onto the stage.

"I will do my best to have this." Stiles amended, swallowing thickly.

 

_______________________________________

 

It turned out that all of the lights that Stiles had worried about maybe blinding him and making him stumble all over himself actually turned out to be his saving grace. With the lights up, shining hotly down on them, there was a kind of wall between the stage and the audience. It obstructed Stiles' view of the crowd, giving him the illusion that it was just Derek and himself there, that they were back in the loft and there was no one around to watch them as they moved together. He was still lightly trembling with fear but it was manageable behind the barrier of lights.

In the center of the stage, standing with Stiles' back to his chest, one of Derek's hands curled around Stiles' hip and the fingers of the other trailed down Stiles' ribcage. Stiles was absurdly pleased with himself for not giggling, even when Derek's nose nuzzled into the sensitive spot behind his ear.

But from the second the music flared to life and Derek spun him out and away, Stiles' mind went blank. It was all muscle memory and Derek's guidance that kept Stiles on time with his steps, kept his feet moving so that he stayed in sync with Derek. He was grateful for it, for all the hours spent committing the steps to memory, grateful that Derek insisted he practice every day for as long as he possibly could. There was no falter in Stiles' steps, no hesitation in the swivel of his hips or the roll of his spine. Stiles smiled at Derek, who was concentrating on their dance but not so hard that he didn't return the gesture.

So, of course, the very next moment was the moment Stiles flubbed a turn, spinning away from Derek when he should have spun toward him. It wasn't a huge deal, really. Derek adjusted the next step, correcting for Stiles' mistake so it went mostly unnoticed. But the misstep had a domino effect on Stiles' nerves. It made him overly aware of his body, bringing him back into his own head and drowning him in second guesses and hesitation.

Derek's touch was just about the only thing keeping Stiles from screwing up to disastrous effect. It gave him something to focus on other than the blood roaring in his ears and his feet moving beneath him.

Derek's hand gripped Stiles' thigh, his fingers sliding smoothly down to grip Stiles' ankle to hook it over his shoulder, forcing Stiles to arch back, his body rolling in one smooth wave. Derek stepped back, pushing Stiles away and then twirling him in place. They glided seamlessly from one move to the next, swaying and spinning without incident. Stiles could admit that he maybe got a little cocky, a little too comfortable in his steps, and that was what caused him to repeat a step one too many times. Derek didn't react to the mistake. Instead, he added an extra move of his own, putting them in the correct positions and just kept moving.

Stiles' brain caught up to him, reminding him that the lift was quickly approaching. Panic landed heavy and cold in his belly and his nerves burned with apprehension. He'd already messed up more than once and the last thing he wanted to do was make a fool of Derek. This was important to Derek. His entire future at Redwood was riding on this performance.

Stiles was straight up panicking by the time Derek turned him around and slid back to set up the lift. Stiles was shaking by then, his limbs full on trembling with anxiety even as he rushed forward to launch himself into Derek's hands. Later, Stiles would be counting his lucky stars that he didn't trip over his quaking legs and end up kissing the stage. He would be thankful that the worst that happened was he didn't push off properly, that he hesitated and ended up awkwardly landing against Derek's chest. Derek didn't miss a beat, hands coming up to grip Stiles' waist and letting him slide down the plane of Derek's chest, bodies flush from chest to thigh, in an effort to disguise the error.

Stiles' face burned with embarrassment. How could he fuck that up? How could the most impressive move of the entire dance be ruined because Stiles was too wracked with nerves to do it right? Derek would never forgive Stiles if he and Lydia lost their contracts.

It was in a bright blur that the rest of the dance passed. Stiles felt detached from himself right up until Derek pulled him into his chest, pushed an open palm to the base of Stiles' spine while hooking Stiles' leg around his hip and dipped Stiles backward. Stiles had enough presence of mind to remember to throw his arms out above his head, letting his fingertips trail the floor as Derek curved himself over Stiles' body. Stiles felt Derek's breath, hot and panting, in the center of his chest and shivered as the lights went down and the audience burst into applause.

Derek straightened, pulling Stiles up with him, and caught his eye in the dim light. Stiles' cheeks were red and splotchy, sweat clinging to his hairline and beading on his forehead. He had the deer in headlights look in his eye even though the worst was over, and Derek suspected it had more to do with the few mistakes Stiles made in their routine than anything else. Derek gave him a tiny, reassuring smile before the lights came back up and they took their bows.

On the second bow, when Stiles straightened up and his eyes swept over the crowd, his entire body went rigid. The hand clasped to Derek's clenched painfully, grinding the knuckles of Derek's hand together. Derek looked up and caught the wide-eyed and almost fearful expression on Stiles' face a second before it changed, morphing into something different, something edged with anger.

Derek followed Stiles' line of sight, seeking out what had caused the sudden shift. At a table to the right of the stage sat Kate, her eyes fixed on Derek, sharp and unwavering. She wore a smirk, an expression so familiar and somehow so foreign to Derek that it made his stomach turn. He tensed, shifting a few inches closer to Stiles reflexively. If possible, his muscles stiffened further when he heard the curse Stiles uttered and Derek noticed who was sitting beside Kate.

Aiden.

Well, that explained a lot, actually.

After one last bow, Stiles let Derek urge him from the stage, both of them steadfastly ignoring the heavy feeling of eyes on their backs.

 

____________________________________________

 

"Of all the fucking people that douchenozzle could show up with," Stiles ranted from the too small backseat of the Camaro as he struggled to wriggle his way out of his costume pants, "it had to be Kate fucking Argent."

Derek tried, he really and honestly tried, to keep his eyes on the road instead of letting them flicker to the rearview mirror. A man could only be expected to resist for so long when his... the guy he was seeing was arching and grunting in the backseat of his car, stripping his way out of slacks that were downright mouthwatering and panting from the effort.

Derek cleared his throat, forcing his attention back to the road. "At least now we know how she found out about me and you. Aiden must have told her, like he did with Isaac."

"Shit." Stiles growled, fighting with his jeans to drag them up and lifting his hips toward the ceiling to tug them over his ass.

Derek groaned quietly to himself at the picture Stiles made.

"What are the chances that he isn't fucking her?" Stiles asked as he fastened his belt.

"Knowing Kate? Slim to none." Derek said, his grip on the steering wheel so tight his knuckles were turning white and having nothing at all to do with Kate or Aiden, but everything to do with the way Stiles was grunting and panting just behind Derek's shoulder.

Stiles heaved himself over the back of the seat, catching his foot on the headrest and tumbling into the passenger seat in a tangled heap. He pushed himself up, grinning at Derek despite his anger and confusion at the night's turn of events. "That's actually kind of disturbing." he said after a moment, grimacing.

Derek's brows drew together in question. "What is?"

"If Aiden, who is also fucking my brother, is sleeping with Kate." Stiles explained, arms flailing. "Because Isaac is also playing house with your cousin and his girlfriend, who is Kate's niece. Then there's you and I, who are doing whatever it is that we're doing, and you used to sleep with Kate, and Aiden used to sleep with Lydia, who also used to sleep with you, and this entire fucking resort is one big, slightly incestuous, clusterfuck of seriously questionable hook-ups."

Derek was positive Stiles hadn't taken a breath throughout that entire train of thought.

"I wouldn't be at all surprised if Ethan was sleeping with one of us, too." Stiles continued, as if breath weren't a necessity.

"No." Derek cut in before Stiles could expand on that. "Ethan and Danny have been together for three years. They're monogamous."

"Well, at least someone is." Stiles rolled his eyes.

They lapsed into silence, occasionally sneaking sideways glances at one another. Neither of them could quite pinpoint where the sudden awkwardness had come from, but denying it was there was nearly impossible. Stiles was just mentally kicking himself for bringing up all the intertwined relationships in their little group and monogamy in the same breath, when Derek broke the silence.

"You..." Derek cleared his throat, started again. "You did really well tonight."

Stiles scoffed, not letting his eyes slide away from the trees flying past as they drove. "I didn't do the lift."

"Still." Derek shrugged, "You were great. You worked really hard for this, Stiles. By the second turn I think you really had it."

Stiles blushed, the alabaster skin peaking out between red patches filling up with color while he tried to hold back a self-conscious smile. "Thanks." he said softly, dipping his head to try and hide the unmissable color staining his face.

Derek groaned inwardly, casting his eyes toward the ceiling and asking the universe for the strength to not pull the car over and drag the blushing teenager into his lap. Seeing Stiles, someone who was so defiantly confident most of the time and disarmingly awkward the rest of it, turn into this adorably shy little shit had Derek's skin itching, his fingertips aching to touch.

Something Stiles had said during his rant pushed to the front of Derek's mind, making his brows furrow. He debated not bringing it back up, not pushing Stiles or himself to explore it while they were coming down from the high of dancing and then the abrupt crash of seeing Kate and Aiden.

"Stiles?" Well, so much for not bringing it up.

"Yeah?" Stiles raised one eyebrow, absentmindedly twisting one of the buttons on his vest.

"You, uh... What do you think we're doing?" Derek asked.

"Going back to the resort?" Stiles guessed, confusion marring his features.

"No, I meant..." Derek's jaw clenched tight, his teeth grinding as he forced himself to push the words out. "You said that we were 'doing whatever it is we're doing'."

"Oh. That." Stiles snagged his bottom lip between his teeth. "Well, I didn't want to, like, assume anything, you know? I mean, I guess we're kind of dating, right? I just didn't want to put a label on you if that's not what you want. Because, I know that we care about each other but I also know that maybe this is just a summer thing, and I don't want to ask you for something more than you want to give and-"

"Stiles." Derek cut him off, his tone a little sharp but a smile tugging at his lips. Stiles' eyes snapped to Derek's face, wide and maybe just a little bit fearful. It made Derek's chest ache, that uncertain glitter in Stiles' eyes. "This isn't just a summer thing." Derek said softly, his eyes skipping from Stiles to the road and back.

Stiles felt tension he hadn't even known he was holding in shoulders ease out of him, his entire body feeling looser than it had barely a second before. "Really?" He smiled tentatively, his fingernails picking at the edge of a button.

"Really." Derek returned his smile, though his was more certain and less questioning now that he'd said it out loud.

Before he could talk himself out of it Stiles slid across the bench seat, lifting Derek's arm and ducking beneath it to tuck himself to Derek's side. Derek let his arm fall around Stiles, his hand fitting into the shallow dip of Stiles' waist. Stiles snuggled in, tucking his legs up under him and slipping one hand between Derek's legs, resting on his thigh.

Derek glanced down at the hand on his leg and felt the uptick in his pulse, felt the way his heart hammered behind his ribs and blood pooled in his lap. "Definitely not a summer thing."


	13. So Much For Keeping That Secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, special thanks to [Eey](http://eeyore9990.tumblr.com/) for giving this chapter a once over to make sure I didn't screw it up entirely. 
> 
> Second: This chapter contains explicit sexual content.
> 
>  
> 
> _**NSFW**_

It was late by the time Derek pulled the Camaro back into the lot, Stiles still curled into his side with his head resting heavily against Derek's chest. Stiles was awake, his body still too wired to fall asleep, but he was so content to just let Derek hold him, to allow himself to enjoy the quiet understanding between them, that he couldn't bring himself to move.

Derek turned the key back in the ignition, silencing the rumble of the engine. Most of the resort's guests were holed away in their cabins at that hour but employees were still milling about.

"Do you have to go right to your cabin?" Derek asked the top of Stiles' head.

"I'm sure my parents are already in bed and Isaac was covering for me, so I think I have some time." Stiles mumbled, his voice lazy with comfort.

Derek hesitated, second guessing himself before he forced the words to fall from his lips. "Do you want to come up to my place?"

Stiles heard the uncertainty in Derek's question as clearly as he felt the stutter in his own pulse. It only took until his very next breath to respond. "Yeah." Stiles grinned into Derek's chest. "Yeah, that sounds good."

Stiles was just sliding out of the car, following Derek through the driver's side door, when Scott came hurtling up, skidding to a sudden stop and kicking up gravel dust. Neither Derek nor Stiles had time to ask what was wrong before Scott was blurting, "It's Lydia. Come on, hurry up!"

They were running toward Lydia's cabin before Scott could even finish his sentence, Derek's stomach dropped out somewhere along the way.

Derek paid no attention to the group of people gathered on Lydia's porch, all of them familiar faces but none of them the redhead he was looking for. Erica stood off to one side with Boyd's arms thrown around her, both of their faces drawn tight with worry. Ethan was sitting beside Danny, their backs against the railing. Stiles was surprised to see Jackson on Danny's other side, but didn't question it. He was too focused on following Derek into the cabin, trying to get eyes on Lydia.

Scott led them down the hall to where Stiles knew Lydia's bedroom was. A few feet before they reached the doorway Derek reached back and threaded his fingers through Stiles', seeking strength and reassurance before he crossed the threshold. Stiles gave his fingers a sharp squeeze, reminding Derek that he was there, and would continue to be there, for both him and Lydia.

When they rounded the corner and stepped through the door, Stiles was sure all the air was sucked out of the room. Derek froze, his hand in Stiles' tightening almost painfully. Stiles moved beside Derek and pressed the length of his arm to Derek's in a wordless show of support despite the fact that his own throat was painfully constricting.

Lydia was lain out in the center of her bed with Allison beside her head, a wet washcloth in hand and a bowl of water on the nightstand. Allison was dabbing the cloth to Lydia's forehead, murmuring gentle words and fighting back the moisture in her eyes. Lydia was scarily pale, her skin clammy and damp, her hair clinging wetly to her skin as tears slipped down her face. The bedsheets that were bunched around her were stained with blood in places, as was the nightgown she wore. Her eyes were closed but from the grimace she wore she seemed to be somewhat conscious.

"She's been like this since we got back." Scott explained breathlessly.

"You didn't call an ambulance?!" Derek demanded, finally seeming to find his words. He lurched forward, dropping onto the side of the bed and reaching up haltingly to push a lock of Lydia's hair away from her face.

"She said the hospital would call the police. She made us promise!" Allison told them in a cracked voice, her eyes wide and red-rimmed.

"Derek, I don't even think he used anesthetic." Scott drew a hand down over his face.

"I thought this guy was supposed to be a real doctor?" Stiles questioned angrily.

"He was set up in some half empty office building." Scott dropped his eyes to the floor, his voice shaking as he tried to tell them what happened. "He had ancient looking equipment and a folding table. They wouldn't let me in the room with her and I could hear her screaming from the hallway."

Derek's attention snapped to Scott then and Stiles was positive the younger man shrank under the angry glare.

"I tried to get in, Derek. I swear to God, I tried to get to her." Scott's face was pinched and worried.

Derek ignored him and turned his attention back to Lydia. He cupped an open palm to the side of her head, his thumb rubbing gingerly at her temple. "It's alright, Lyds. I'm right here."

Stiles didn't think about it, didn't question the intelligence of what he was about to do. He spun on his heel and tore off toward his cabin.

He was panting, his lungs burning with exertion, when he clattered up the steps and rushed to his parents bedroom. Their door was open so Stiles went straight to his mother's side of the bed, dropping down to his knees and trying to shake her awake.

"Mom, wake up." he whispered, not wanting to wake his father too.

Claudia startled awake, blinking rapidly to focus on her youngest son. "Stiles?" she asked groggily. At once she seemed to realize that it was the middle of the night and she was being woken from a dead sleep by her son who looked more than a little harried. "Stiles, what's wrong? Is it Isaac?" she questioned, her voice taking on the authoritative quality she used with her patients, already pushing herself out of bed.

"No, Isaac is fine." Stiles hurried to reassure her. "But, I need you to come with me. Please, Mom."

Claudia nodded unquestioningly and pulled her bathrobe on over her pajama pants and cami. Stiles grabbed her emergency medical bag and was heading for the door when his father's voice cut through the dark.

"Stiles?" he asked. "Claudia? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Dad." Stiles tried, his body shivering from yet another adrenaline spike. "Go back to sleep."

"Like hell I will." John muttered snappishly as he heaved himself up.

Stiles didn't have time to fight. He was already worried he was taking too long. So he was silent while his father pulled on a pair of pants, and he stayed that way all the way back to Lydia's cabin. John and Claudia tried to ask what was happening, what the emergency was, but Stiles bit his tongue and waited.

Claudia gasped quietly when Stiles led her into Lydia's room. Derek's eyes shot up at the sound and confusion clouded his face for just a fraction of a second before he stood back and let Claudia swoop in beside the bed.

"Everybody out." the sheriff demanded, shooing Scott and Allison from the room as Claudia pressed a hand to Lydia's forehead.

"Who's responsible for this girl?" Stiles' mom asked, her eyes flicking to Derek as she opened her bag.

"I am." Derek stepped forward half a step. "Please, Dr. Stilinski. If you can..." He choked off the sentence, panic and fear making it hard to speak coherently.

Stiles moved unthinkingly forward, pressing himself into Derek's back and running a hand up his arm to calm him. Sheriff Stilinski didn't miss the action.

"Go outside." John pointed toward the door. "Let your mother work." he directed at Stiles.

Stiles nodded and pulled Derek out behind him.

 

______________________________________

 

Derek paced back and forth over the creaky boards of Lydia's front porch, ignoring everyone around him as darkness swirled in his mind. The only thing he could focus on was the fear, the abject terror that flooded his system. The thought of losing Lydia was emotionally paralyzing. It left Derek feeling torn open and raw, his chest hollow and painfully empty.

Stiles watched Derek from the railing beside Ethan. Derek was so ensnared by his worry for Lydia he didn't even so much as look up when Jackson gave Stiles a friendly bump on the shoulder in silent greeting. Stiles knew that going to Derek right now was a mistake, knew that he needed space to work through his emotions on his own. But, Stiles watched. He kept an eye on Derek even while he was keeping an ear open for the sounds of his father's boots on wooden floorboards.

Almost an hour had passed by the time John and Claudia reappeared from inside the cabin. Stiles was once again by Derek's side but he kept his hands in his pockets to resist the urge to reach out again in front of his parents.

"How is she?" Scott asked.

"She's sedated." Claudia told them. "It will be a rough few days but she'll be just fine. I'm going to give her some antibiotics so you'll need to make sure she takes them." she said the last part to Derek.

Derek nodded.

Scott was the closest to Stiles' parents so he was the first to shake Claudia and the sheriff's hands. "Thank you." he said softly but with conviction. "I don't know what we would have done-"

Claudia smiled at him. "It's my job to take care of people, Scott. As a mother and a doctor." she added, her eyes sweeping over Stiles where he stood beside Derek.

Derek stepped forward to shake Claudia's hand. She accepted the gesture with a nod and a small smile and Stiles had never loved his mother more than he did in that moment. He was sure she saw what was between them, or at the very least John had drawn it to her attention. He hadn't expected the quiet assessment, the calm way Claudia regarded Derek.

"Thank you, Dr. Stilinski." Derek managed to say, though his voice was still rough and broken. Derek made to shake the sheriff's hand as well but John ignored it, putting a hand to the small of his wife's back and guiding her down the stairs.

"Stiles." John called, stopping to wait at the bottom.

Stiles didn't want to leave. He wanted to see Lydia, to stay with Derek and be there for him. But, Stiles was mostly a coward when it came to his parents. So, he gave Derek's hand one more squeeze and then hurried to catch up.

"Dad, I can explain." Stiles tried when they were far enough away from Lydia's cabin.

The sheriff stopped in the middle of the path and turned on his son, eyes angry and mouth in a tight line. "No." John put a hand up to stop his son from continuing. "Is that what my money paid for?"

Stiles swallowed thickly, his pulse racing and his mouth feeling too dry. "I'm sorry, Dad. I never meant to lie to you."

"You're not the person I thought you were, Stiles." John shook his head. It wasn't the anger that hurt Stiles, it was the disappointment in his father's tone that cut. "I'm not sure who you are. But, I don't want you to have anything to do with those people. Ever again."

"Can I just expla-"

"Nothing!" John nearly shouted. "You will have nothing to do with any of them. Those are not the type of people you should be hanging around with, damn it."

"John..." Claudia said gently, laying a hand on her husband's arm.

"Now, I'm going back to bed. I expect to see you at breakfast tomorrow." John told his son shortly, before putting an arm around Claudia's shoulder and heading back toward their cabin.

Stiles, for all the anger and resentment he was feeling, couldn't do anything about it. The only thing he could do was fall into step behind his parents, try to breathe through the tight but vacant feeling in his chest, and think about Derek all the way home.

 

________________________________________

 

Stiles was always the one, out of himself and Isaac, to follow their parent's orders. Sure, he tended to pick and choose which rules were law and which were mere suggestions, but he at least came up with valid reasoning for why the suggestions didn't deserve to be followed to the letter of the thing. Normally, when given a direct order, Stiles did as he was told. His parents told him not to hang out in the old abandoned train station and he stopped hanging out in the old abandoned train station. If there was any wiggle room whatsoever though, Stiles would find it and he would exploit it. His parents told him not to let them catch him smoking pot? Stiles continued to smoke, he just never let them catch him.

His father had lain down the law when it came to Derek and their friends. There wasn't much room left for interpretation in the sentence, "You are not to have anything to do with those people. Ever again." As far as direct orders went, that one was crystal clear.

In the interest of following orders, Stiles stayed in bed for all of an hour after his parents disappeared back into their bedroom. Then, he tiptoed as silently as he could through the cabin and down the front steps.

He went straight to Derek's cabin.

The kitchen light was on, spilling yellow onto the grass beneath the window. Stiles knocked lightly, fidgeting in place and tugging on the points of the vest he had yet to take off. The door opened and Derek was there, filling the doorway with a pale halo of light casting his face in shadow.

When Derek didn't speak, just stood there and let his tired eyes linger on the younger man's face, Stiles looked up through his lashes and softly asked, "Can I come in?"

Derek stepped back and gestured Stiles in. Stiles kicked his shoes off by the door and followed Derek down the little hallway that opened up into the living room.

"I didn't think I'd be seeing you for a while." Derek offered as he headed back to whatever he'd been doing in the kitchen.

Stiles watched Derek from the living room, watched him pull a glass down from the cabinet and set it beside another one already on the counter. Over the gentle tinkling of glass and the soft splash of whiskey being poured Stiles listened to the unobtrusive strains of music floating out from the speakers of Derek's stereo. The tune was smooth and lilting, an instrumental piece with a lot of piano and a hint of violin.

"I wanted to apologize." Stiles blurted nervously when Derek came around the sofa and handed him a glass.

"Stiles, you have nothing to apologize for." Derek shook his head as he sank into the recliner opposite the couch where Stiles had settled.

"I really do, though." Stiles insisted. "Derek, I am so sorry for the way my father treated you."

"No, your father was great." Derek argued, rolling his glass between his palms. "Your mom, too. The way they took care of Lydia..."

"I meant the way my dad was with you." Stiles ran a hand through his hair. "That was more about me than it was you. I told you how overprotective my parents are, and my dad has always been worse than my mom. I just... I'm sorry."

Derek sighed, falling back into the chair and tipping his drink to his lips. When he spoke his tone was resigned, "Your parents are pretty amazing people, Stiles. The way your dad took charge of the situation and your mom saved Lydia's life. I couldn't... I could never do something like that. Your father is right, Stiles. I'm not the kind of person you should be hanging around with."

"You heard that?" Stiles cringed, swirling the ice in his glass.

"He's not wrong." Derek stood up and started pacing. "I'm not good enough for you, Stiles. I'm a nobody, a nothing."

"Don't say that!" Stiles said vehemently. "That's not true, Derek. You... You're _everything_!"

"You don't understand the way it is for someone like me." Derek finished his drink and dropped the empty glass onto the coffee table with a loud thunk. "If it wasn't for Melissa and Peter I'd be on the streets. Hell, for a while after my family... I have a record, Stiles. A record your father will probably look up as soon as he gets the chance. And then what? You think he's going to let you be with someone like me? Someone who is broken and nowhere near good enough for you?"

"No. That's not how it is." Stiles argued, slamming his own glass down. "It doesn't have to be like that. Who you were and who you are... They're not the same person, Derek."

Derek looked at Stiles with wide eyes, his chest rising and falling quickly and in cadence with his rapidly beating heart. "I've never known anyone like you." he said, his tone one of almost awe. "It's like you're physically incapable of seeing the worst in people. You look at the world and you think that you can make it better. Someone's lost, you find them. Someone's broken, you fix them. Someone's bleeding-"

"I run and get my mommy and daddy." Stiles bit out, anger and fear making him short tempered. "Real brave, just like you said."

"It took a lot of guts to go to them!" Derek took a step closer before he thought better of it. "Stiles, you're... You're not afraid of anything."

"Me?" Stiles snorted derisively. "Are you kidding? I'm scared of everything, Derek! I'm scared of what happened to Lydia, of what I did to my dad, of who I'm becoming. But, most of all, I'm scared of walking out of this cabin and never feeling again, my whole life, the way I feel when I'm with you!"

Derek froze in place, caught halfway between moving closer and running for his life. He stared at Stiles, all wide-eyed and flushed skin, and wondered if he'd ever seen someone more beautiful than the man that stood before him. For half a beat Derek considered pulling the plug. He imagined asking Stiles to leave, breaking his heart and telling him it was over, that this thing between them could never work because they were just too different. But, just the idea of it made Derek's stomach turn, made his chest burn like he'd swallowed a burning ember.

"Dance with me?" Stiles whispered suddenly, his soulful amber eyes beseeching.

"Now?" Derek asked but he was already moving closer.

"Now." Stiles said simply, stepping into Derek's space.

Derek sighed heavily, his resistance crumbling around him like the dried out walls of a sand castle. Stiles' hands reached out, the very tips of his fingers skimming up Derek's forearms, his eyes following their trails as they moved up to his shoulders and curled around Derek's neck. Derek's hands splayed wide across the base of Stiles' spine, fitting smoothly into the dip of his lower back as they swayed together.

Pressing his forehead to Derek's, Stiles took a deep, shuddering breath and let his hands fall to Derek's ribs. Derek pulled Stiles flush against him, chest to chest and thigh to thigh. and guided Stiles' hips in a tight circle, his fingertips sneaking up beneath the fabric of Stiles' untucked button up and pressing into his skin. Their breaths lingered and intertwined between them, making Derek's head spin. He leaned in, his lips hovering just out of reach until Stiles closed the distance. He caught Derek's bottom lip between his, kissing it gently before moving to his top lip and giving it the same treatment.

"I thought we were dancing?" Derek asked, his voice thready and thin.

Stiles smiled and kissed Derek's chin, dotting a line of kisses along his jaw. His hands dipped up under Derek's t-shirt, his long fingers following every crest and valley of Derek's abs. "We are." Stiles agreed, rucking Derek's shirt up until he could drag it off over his head.

"Are you making this up as you go?" Derek asked as Stiles tossed his shirt onto the couch.

Stiles laughed, a sound thick with the same desire that glazed his eyes. "Maybe." He pressed a too light kiss at Derek's collarbone that had his eyelids sinking shut. "Are you objecting?" Stiles asked, his tone cocky but his voice quavering enough to give away his nerves as he dropped a kiss to Derek's shoulder.

"Are you crazy?" Derek breathed, his skin tingling where Stiles' fingers glided over his stomach as he moved around to Derek's back, leaving searing imprints of his lips on random patches of skin.

"Well, that remains to be seen." Stiles traced one curled arm of Derek's tattoo with his tongue and delighted in the sharp inhale that had Derek's shoulder blades flexing under his hands. "What about you, Derek?" He nipped at the winged point of Derek's scapula, his lips immediately kissing away the bite. "How's your sanity right about now?" Stiles mouthed at Derek's skin, following an agonizingly slow path to the opposite side of Derek's jaw from where he started.

Derek's head dropped back on a groan, the long line of his neck begging Stiles to sink his teeth in and take a bite. "I don't think I've been entirely sane since the day I met you." Derek grinned at the small huff of amusement that Stiles let out.

"Well, then I guess I'm in good company, Hale." Stiles smirked, his hands coming up to trace the divots between each individual rib.

Derek sucked in a jagged breath and caught the front of Stiles' vest. He made quick work of the buttons before letting it fall open and pushing it off Stiles' shoulders. Before Stiles could get his hands back on Derek's body Derek was plunging his fingers into Stiles' hair and yanking back so he could attack Stiles' throat with his teeth.

Stiles moaned, rough and low in his chest, his head falling back and his body arching into Derek's. Derek's mouth was hot and wet on Stiles' skin, sending jolts of sensation straight to Stiles cock with every scrape of teeth and stubble. One of Derek's hands skimmed down Stiles' side, over the barely there curve of his hip until it reached his thigh and yanked. Derek draped the thigh high on his hip and forced Stiles to bow back, jutting his pelvis forward. Stiles gasped when Derek rolled into him, the bulge in his jeans perfectly aligned with the one trapped behind Stiles' zipper.

"Fuck, Derek." Stiles groaned, cupping Derek's jaw and crushing their lips together, paying zero attention to the way his cut lip stung with the pressure.

Something inside Derek snapped. Gone was the slow and teasing pace, the patience to wait for the next touch of Stiles' skin against his. In its place was raw need, an eager and demanding desire to get as much of himself on as much of Stiles as he possibly could. Derek's mouth was bruising, his tongue diving in the moment Stiles' lips opened in invitation. Stiles' fingers dug into Derek's shoulders while their lips and tongues waged an aggressive assault against one another.

In a blur of hands and teeth, Derek somehow managed to divest Stiles of his shirt, though a few buttons may not have survived the encounter. He got his mouth on Stiles' chest, licking and sucking until the skin bloomed red with blood drawn to the surface, while he palmed at Stiles' ass through his jeans.

"Derek." Stiles panted, his hands finding Derek's belt buckle and tugging it open. "Come on. Why do you still have pants on?"

Derek chuckled shakily, already dropping to his knees in front of Stiles to lick a burning stripe from one hip bone to the other. "You first." he demanded.

Derek glanced up to see Stiles looking down at him, a flush riding high on his cheekbones and low on his chest, his eyes sparkling with something Derek didn't dare put a name to.

"You're fucking gorgeous, Stiles." Derek was shocked to hear himself say. He hadn't meant to say it aloud but that didn't make it any less true.

If possible, Stiles' blush deepened. "Remind me to buy you a mirror for your birthday." he joked.

Derek growled, frustrated that Stiles didn't see in himself what Derek saw. It made him pull a little harder at Stiles' zipper than he meant to but he managed to get his jeans open all the same and had the added benefit of jerking Stiles' pelvis a few inches closer to his mouth. Derek took the opportunity to latch on to one prominent hip bone and suck a purple mark into the skin stretched over it.

Stiles threaded his fingers into the thick hair at Derek's crown, his eyes rolling back in his head as Derek nosed his way closer to his cock, following the cut of Stiles' hip with his tongue as he dragged Stiles' jeans down his thighs. Stiles stepped out of the pants and kicked them behind him. Air stuttered in his lungs when he felt the humid warmth of Derek's breath on his cock through the fabric of his boxer-briefs.

Stiles whined in the back of his throat, a desperate sound he'd kick himself for later, when Derek lowered the waist of the briefs just enough so that Stiles' leaking dick was still trapped to his belly but Derek could get his mouth on the head. Derek's nails scratched none too gently down the backs of Stiles' thighs while his spit-slicked lips rubbed teasing at his cockhead. Derek's tongue flicked out to taste the salty bead of pre-come that leaked from Stiles' slit and he reveled in the way Stiles shivered at the touch. Derek hooked his fingers under the band of Stiles' briefs and dragged them down. His mouth was on Stiles before the teenager could blink, all slick heat and the hot slide of tongue.

With a sharp gasp Stiles rocked forward, sinking a little further into Derek's mouth. His fingers tightened in Derek's hair, not to set his pace but just to have something to hold onto while he felt like he was falling apart. Derek worked his cock with the kind of skill that only came from someone who enjoyed doing it. Derek was all enthusiasm and the desire to please as he pulled Stiles into the back of his throat and swallowed around him.

"Jesus fucking Christ." Stiles hissed, his mind fogging with lust and pleasure while Derek pulled back to swirl his tongue around the dripping head of Stiles' cock. "You're trying to kill me, aren't you? Death by cocksucking seems like a fantastic way to go. I have all of zero- _hnng_ -objections."

Derek pulled off with an obscene pop and Stiles definitely didn't pout. "You can shut up while I kiss you but not while I give you head?" Derek asked, looking up at Stiles with one eyebrow quirked in question.

"Your mouth is busy, not mine." Stiles waggled his eyebrows and smiled widely down at Derek.

Derek grinned mischievously and climbed back to his feet, his eyes never leaving Stiles' as he reached down and pulled his belt free of its loops. He arched a brow in challenge, walking backwards and crooking a finger at Stiles to follow. With a groan and a kick to free his ankles of his boxer-briefs, Stiles did as Derek bid and followed him down the hallway to his bedroom.

Stiles was barely inside the room before Derek was on him, slamming him up against the door to close it and hoisting him up so Stiles could wrap his legs around Derek's waist. Derek rolled his hips up and into the V of Stiles' thighs, the rough scratch of denim against Stiles' bare skin making him moan into Derek's mouth. Derek swallowed the sound, licking into Stiles' mouth and tasting every corner he could reach. Stiles pushed his shoulders into the solid door behind him and used the leverage to grind down on Derek's erection where it was still pressing between his legs.

"Derek." Stiles gasped, sounding drugged as he pulled roughly on Derek's hair. "If you don't get me in that fucking bed, I swear to God-"

"Pushy bastard, aren't you?" Derek nipped at Stiles' throat in reprimand but he was already making his way toward the bed.

"Hell yes." Stiles agreed, his teeth catching Derek's earlobe before he whispered, "I just really want to get my mouth around your cock, Hale."

Derek's steps faltered beneath him and he stumbled, causing Stiles' legs to tighten around him. Stiles laughed and Derek was sure the little fucker knew exactly what it did to him when Stiles used his last name. Derek cut off Stiles' laugh by tossing him on the bed, the impact pushing Stiles' breath out in a whoosh. Stiles scrambled up to his knees and dragged Derek forward, spinning him at the last second so that Derek hit the mattress and Stiles could straddle him.

"I wasn't kidding, Derek." Stiles leaned in close, teasing the seam of Derek's lips with the point of his tongue. "I've been dreaming of sucking you off since the day I laid eyes on you."

Derek's hips jerked up and Stiles' predatory grin widened.

"Do you like that, Derek?" Stiles asked, bending to get his mouth on Derek's chest. "Do you like hearing what I want to do to you?"

"Yes." Derek grunted, his fists clenching as sparks shot through him when Stiles bit sharply at one pec. "Fucking _yes_ , okay? Keep talking."

"I thought you wanted me to shut up?" Stiles licked a line up from Derek's navel to the center of his chest.

Derek arched into it, a needy growl ripping its way out of his throat. "In case you haven't noticed, I kind of love your mouth." he ground out through clenched teeth.

"Oh, you have no idea." Stiles' eyes gleamed as he shimmied backward to tug Derek's jeans off.

Derek wasn't wearing anything under his jeans so it was barely a second later that Stiles had his lips wrapped around Derek's uncut cock, his tongue rolling and twirling around his length.

"Fuck." Derek moaned, the sound coming up from somewhere near his toes.

Stiles bobbed up and down, wrapping his hand around the base and jerking slowly while his cheeks hollowed out and his tongue traced the vein that ran the underside of Derek's cock, from base to tip. Derek bucked up into it, fighting the urge to fuck Stiles' perfect mouth. He buried his hands in Stiles' hair and pulled gently, smiling when Stiles hummed around him, the vibrations making every inch of Derek's body tingle and light up like the Vegas strip. Stiles sank down on Derek's dick, the swollen, dribbling crown nudging at his throat and making his eyes water.

"If you don't stop this is going to be over really quickly." Derek warned tightly, his jaw clenched in effort to hold back the orgasm he could feel building in his spine.

Stiles pulled off and swiped the back of his hand across his smug and glistening mouth. Derek surged up and caught Stiles around the ribs, yanking him down on top of him and then rolling them both so that Derek was nestled between Stiles' open thighs.

Derek kissed Stiles like a drowning man searching for air, desperate and frantic. It was all teeth and tongues, a frenzied mess of tangled emotions and words that neither of them were brave enough to say. Stiles shoved up, his cock sliding dryly over the bumps of Derek's abs, the way only smoothed by the pre-come that smeared Derek's skin with each pass. Derek rutted down, his spit slick dick gliding smoothly between Stiles' thighs, each long stroke grazing along the underside of Stiles' sack.

"I want to fuck you." Derek panted into Stiles' neck. "Jesus, Stiles. I want to be inside you."

Stiles whimpered as Derek's fingertips dug into his hips, urging him to continue his upward rocks. "Yeah. Yes. Definitely yes." Stiles panted, levering himself up to catch Derek's lips once more, his tongue fucking into its inviting warmth.

Reluctantly, Derek ripped his mouth away from Stiles' kiss, to which Stiles protested profusely by whining and rutting his hips up. Derek chuckled at his antics, but shifted back and away to reach for the bedside drawer.

"Oh." Stiles breathed when he realized what Derek was doing.

Derek tossed a condom and a bottle of lube on the sheet beside Stiles' head, his smile sharp enough to send a shiver ricocheting through Stiles. He dropped down heavily on Stiles' chest, not bothering to distribute much of his weight, pressing the teen hard into the mattress.

"You have no idea what you do to me, Stiles." Derek murmured the words into Stiles' neck, his lips dragging deliciously down Stiles' throat. "I can't get you out of my head. I'm not sure I even want to anymore."

A high wounded sound left Stiles' throat at that, his fingertips gripping Derek's shoulders so hard that the skin around them was turning white.

"Shh, shh, shh." Derek soothed, pressing white hot, open mouthed kisses down Stiles' sternum, veering off course to wrap his lips around one puffy nipple.

Stiles writhed under him, back bowing off the bed, his hands seeking out Derek's hair frantically. Derek sucked the sensitive pink flesh between his lips, sucking and flicking it with his tongue until it pebbled. He rolled the nub along his teeth, biting roughly before laving away the sting.

Stiles cried out with every tug of teeth, every scratch of stubble against his tender flesh. His cock was throbbing, heavy and hot against his belly, jolts of electricity running through him until he felt dizzy with it. "Derek, please." Stiles begged when Derek traded one abused nipple for the other. "Please."

Derek continued to torture Stiles' puckered flesh, alternating between stings and mollifying laves of his tongue, one of his hands snaking between them to fist Stiles' dick. "What do you need, Stiles?" he asked, licking a jagged line down Stiles' ribs, circling his navel achingly slowly. "Tell me what you need."

"You." Stiles mewled, his body coiled so tightly he felt like he was spring loaded. "I need you to fuck me, Derek."

Instead of responding, Derek kissed and sipped at Stiles skin, searing a path back to his jaw. Stiles heard the distinctive snap of a plastic lid opening and had to fight back the wave of fire that roared in his chest. His eyes followed every movement of Derek's hands as he slicked up two of his wide fingers. Derek's eyes never strayed from Stiles' face. He drank in every shift of Stiles' expression, every trace of tongue over that faultless Cupid's bow, every stuttered breath that puffed from his mouth, every lazy flutter of sooty eyelashes against flushed cheeks.

Stiles all but sobbed when Derek pressed one flat pad to his hole, circling the sensitive ring of muscle teasingly. He pulled his knees up higher, spreading his legs as wide as he was able to give Derek better access. Derek graffitied Stiles neck and collarbone with rasping kisses while he applied gentle pressure to Stiles' hole. His finger slipped past the clutching muscle and Stiles sighed, rolling his hips down to ask for more. Derek obliged, coaxing his digit deeper into Stiles' body, slick skin gliding smoothly as it sank deeper.

"More, Der." Stiles plead, his lips right against the shell of Derek's ear.

Derek shuddered at the feeling of wet breath, his skin tingling where Stiles' hands slipped down his sides. He pushed another finger in beside the first, scissoring and twisting them inside Stiles to stretch him open. When the tips of his fingers glanced off Stiles' prostate Stiles keened, the sound punched out of him without his permission.

"Christ." Derek growled, burying his teeth into Stiles' shoulder as his fingers worked the teen's body.

Stiles' dexterous fingers closed around Derek's length, jerking him with short, deliberate stokes. Derek groaned brokenly, his hips stuttering forward of their own volition.

A third finger joined the others in their ministrations and Stiles felt the stretch. His body was accommodating, giving around Derek's probing fingers without complaint, save for the slight burn of his rim as it pulled tight.

"Come on, Derek." Stiles urged desperately. "I'm good, I swear. Just fucking get inside me already."

Derek tried to laugh but there wasn't nearly enough air in the room, much less in his lungs, to make the sound take form. He pushed himself up, slipping his fingers from Stiles' body and forcibly ignoring the mournful whine the teen let out. He lifted Stiles' hips enough to slide a pillow under his ass.

"This alright?" Derek asked, after rolling the condom on and adding a little extra lube. He settled himself back between Stiles' thighs and explained, "I want to watch you fall apart for me."

"Hell yes, it's okay." Stiles nodded vigorously, clutching at Derek's shoulders and dragging him back into his chest. Stiles bit at Derek's lips, kissing him roughly and rocking up into his body. "This is good. Great even. But if you're not inside me in the next five secon-"

The rest of that sentence was lost in a garbled tangle of words because Derek was suddenly pushing the blunt head of his rock hard cock into Stiles' body, nudging past the tight ring of muscle. Stiles took deep breaths, forcing his body to relax around the welcome but still painful intrusion.

"You're doing so well." Derek praised, dropping soft brushes of his mouth across Stiles' cheeks, his eyelids, his nose. "So good for me, Stiles."

It wasn't so much a burn by the time Derek bottomed out, his balls nestled tightly against Stiles' ass, as it was just a too tight fit. His rim was drawn taunt around Derek's considerable girth, his body gripping firmly around his length. Stiles tested the connection with one or two slow rolls of his hips, moaning softly when all he felt was pleasure-pain instead of pain-pain.

After a few minutes and a couple of tentative thrusts of Derek's hips, Stiles nodded. "You can move."

Derek's thrusts started out long and sluggish. He pushed in deep, Stiles' ass flush against Derek's thighs, and then drew out leisurely, stopping only when Stiles' hole fluttered around the head of Derek's cock. Stiles moaned and undulated beneath him, lifting his hips to eagerly meet Derek's crawling pace. Gradually, Derek pick up speed. His thrusts got sharper, his angle adjusted to hit Stiles' directly where Derek knew it would make him see stars.

And stars he saw. Every thrust, every stroke of Derek's dick on the walls of Stiles' body had him clawing at Derek's back, his nails digging cruelly into Derek's skin without either of them noticing or caring. Stiles wrapped his legs around Derek's waist, giving himself the leverage to roll up when Derek shoved down.

They were both panting, their breaths ragged and torn apart every time Derek sank into Stiles. Derek's thrust picked up momentum, his hips snapping sharply, his cock plunging into Stiles' heat and driving both of them mad.

"Close, Der." Stiles gasped. "So fucking close."

Derek lifted Stiles' legs, hooking them over his shoulders. His fingers dug brutally into Stiles' thighs as he slammed forward, holding on like a vice despite the sweat that slicked both of their skin. Stiles wrapped a hand around his cock, stopping it from slapping wetly against his belly. He stripped it wildly, fucking into his fist when Derek fucked into him.

Stiles was babbling nonstop and nonsensically, crying out in frenzied pleasure every time Derek impaled him on his cock.

"Come for me, Stiles." Derek commanded, his voice gravel-rough and unfairly sexy.

Stiles whimpered, his body wound so tightly it hurt. Tears burned his eyes when they met Derek's, every tug on his cock, every matching slide of Derek inside him, making him crazy. Stiles could feel the explosion hovering just outside of his reach, the steady buzz of orgasm coiled in his spine and ready to erupt.

"I can't." Stiles cried out, his thumb sliding over his slit in a move that never failed to set him off. Except, it did fail. Stiles was more turned on than he'd ever been, his nerves singing with the need for release, but he was no closer to tipping over the edge.

Derek dropped Stiles' legs back down to his waist, leaning over him and dragging his hands away from his cock. Stiles protested weakly, a trickle of tears running from the corners of his eyes when Derek pinned both hands over his head. Derek pressed himself all along Stiles' front, trapping his cock between them. Stiles nearly wailed from the friction of Derek's abs against his angry, weeping erection. Derek hips pumped in and out, drilling Stiles into the mattress.

"You can." Derek growled in Stiles' ear. His tongue flick at his earlobe. "You _can_ come for me, Stiles."

"I can't." Stiles denied, shaking violently under Derek.

"You will." Derek practically snarled, his hips hammering forward as his teeth sank into the curve of Stiles' neck, where it met his shoulder.

Stiles shouted Derek's name, his entire body convulsing as his orgasm tore through him. Fire raged under his skin, scorching him from the inside out, his vision graying at the edges as he splashed come between them. He couldn't help the shattered whimpers that fell from his lips anymore than he could stop his asshole from gripping Derek's cock so tightly it made thrusting difficult.

"Fuck." Derek groaned, the sound fucked-out and fractured even muffled by Stiles' throat.

It was only two or three more stilted thrusts before Derek's own release ripped its way through him. His body drew tight, his muscles burning and straining as he came, buried inside Stiles with absolutely no desire to be anywhere else for the foreseeable future.

After several long, dazed minutes where Derek pinned Stiles to the mattress with his weight, Derek lifted himself, pulling away enough to get eyes on Stiles' face. His eyes were open, staring unseeingly at the ceiling, his lashes wet and clumped together.

"Hey." Derek said softly, lifting a hand to tilt Stiles' chin.

Stiles tried to focus his vision but only managed to see the vaguely head shaped blur that he knew to be Derek. "Hey." he sighed, his tongue feeling heavy and leaden behind his teeth.

Derek smiled down at him, dropping a pair of light kisses to the corners of Stiles' mouth before reaching down to hold the condom in place while he carefully pulled out. Stiles winced at the desolately empty feeling, his body seeking out the fullness it had come to crave without success. Derek knotted off the condom and then tossed it on the floor beside the bed before collapsing beside Stiles and tangling their fingers together between them.

"You want to shower?" Derek ventured, rolling his head to see Stiles' profile.

"Not even a little." Stiles slurred.

Derek chuckled, shifting on to his side so he could throw one leg over Stiles' and lay an arm possessively across Stiles' come covered belly.

Stiles' lips curled up into a lazy smile, his eyelids falling closed. "I guess I was wrong." he mumbled.

"About what?" Derek would have frowned but he was too blissed out to bother.

"You actually can laugh during sex." Stiles chuckled tiredly.

Derek pinched Stiles' hip halfheartedly, but still snuggled closer into his side. "Yeah, I guess I can."


	14. Love And Other Terrifying Realizations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some morning-after fluff thrown in with your sexytimes!
> 
> This is your promised _**NSFW**_ warning.
> 
> Also, there is a brief description of a near panic attack in this chapter.

After a cursory wipe down with a damp cloth, once Derek managed to drag himself out of bed, they'd both fallen asleep, Derek curled around Stiles' back, their legs entwined.

The sun was barely in the sky when Stiles opened his eyes again. The bedroom was painted in early morning gold, wide slats of light just beginning to inch their way across the floor. They'd shifted positions in their sleep and Stiles nuzzled into Derek's stomach, his nose twitching when it was tickled by the thin trail of hair below Derek's navel. Stiles' fingers curled where they lay on the inside of Derek's thigh and he smiled serenely at the low rumble in Derek's chest.

Derek's hand found its way into Stiles' hair, his fingers dragging through the soft locks, his nails raking lightly at Stiles' scalp. Neither of them spoke, unwilling to be the first to break the quiet peacefulness of the morning, the gilded afterglow of a night spent drowning in nothing, no one, but each other.

Stiles drew slow spirals on Derek's thigh, pressed a kiss on the bare skin just above where the sheet was tangled indecently low around Derek's hips. Derek hummed, his fingers slipping down to cup the back of Stiles' neck, kneading gently. The next brush of Stiles' lips ghosted at Derek's Adonis belt and another pleased rumble vibrated through him. Stiles smiled into Derek's skin, his lips singeing and his tongue snaking out to dampen the burn.

"Stiles." Derek's sandpaper whisper shattered the silence as it trickled down Stiles' spine.

Pushing up onto his knees, Stiles crawled between Derek's legs. He laid his palms flat on Derek's thighs, spreading his fingers and gliding them up. He purposefully avoided touching Derek's dick, his thumbs skirting the very edges of Derek's groin but sliding up and away without lingering.

Derek made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat but Stiles only smiled wider, leaning forward to follow the path of his hands with his mouth. Derek shuddered beneath Stiles, his skin flushing a mouthwatering shade of pink. Derek's hands slipped back into Stiles' hair, pushing through his strands and coming to rest hotly on each side of his neck as Stiles worked his way up Derek's body. He licked into the ridges of Derek's muscled stomach, biting and sucking at such a leisurely pace that Derek was a panting puddle of raw nerves by the time Stiles finally reached his mouth.

Derek gripped Stiles' hair in his fisted hands, dragging their mouths together. The kiss started out dirty and wet but Stiles took control, guiding Derek's tongue into a lazy tangle with his own. Stiles settled his body between the spread of Derek's thighs, chests flush and hips aligned. His hands explored Derek's sides, slipping down to curl behind his knees and hiking them up around Stiles' ribs. He swallowed Derek's moan, rolling his pelvis down and feeling his heart skip when Derek wrapped his legs around him, his heels digging into the globes of Stiles' ass.

Stiles broke the kiss, gasping for air and meeting Derek's intense gaze. They rocked together, their bodies moving without hesitation, their eyes locking for a long moment. Derek's chest felt cavernous, his heart heavy and swollen where it thudded behind his ribs. Neither of them had spoken, outside of Derek saying Stiles' name which he hadn't actually intended to do, and the moment had taken on a heightened awareness, an added layer of something heady and charged that made Derek's blood thicken in his veins. Sure, Derek loved hearing Stiles talk, enjoyed watching his lips form perfect words that set Derek's skin alight. But this... It was almost surreal, the two of them clinging to one another in the quiet light of morning, so wrapped up in themselves that the world outside of them ceased to exist. It was intense and intimate in a different way than the night before, though it still made Derek feel like he was losing his mind, along with another piece of himself he was too terrified to name.

Stiles bit down sharply at the angular edge of Derek's jaw, dragging him back from wherever he'd slipped off too. "Where did you go?" Stiles asked breathlessly, stilling his rutting hips and tilting his head in question.

"Sorry." Derek apologized. "I'm here. I promise, I'm right here." He leaned up as he pulled Stiles' lips back to his, meeting him halfway.

Stiles sank into it, tasting the razor edge of desperation on Derek's tongue. The kiss picked up momentum, Stiles letting Derek take what he needed without protest. He wasn't sure what was going on in Derek's head, wasn't really sure he wanted to know, but he did his best to give as good as Derek gave. He nipped his way down Derek's chin, down to the bump of his throat. Stiles worried at Derek's neck, his teeth catching on the straining tendons and drawing pained whimpers from deep in Derek's throat.

Stiles hushed him soothingly, but didn't stop his mouth's ministrations. He pulled away just long enough to lick his palm before pushing it down between their writhing bodies and then he was back to working over Derek's neck.

Derek let out a hoarse groan, his back bowing off the bed, when Stiles' hand closed around his cock. His hips bucked up but Stiles just pressed him down harder, pulling him in long, smooth strokes. Derek fucked up into Stiles grip as much as he could, which wasn't a whole hell of a lot with Stiles pining him to the bed with his hip. Derek was engulfed with heat, every molecule in his body vibrating, every nerve alive and sparking. Lava, hot and thick, pooled in Derek's belly and Stiles just kept stripping his cock, grinding his own erection into the space behind Derek's balls, the tip of his dick nestled between Derek's cheeks.

"Come on, Derek." Stiles murmured, gravel rough and smooth as silk. He pressed his forehead to Derek's, burnt amber boring down into transcendent green. "I want to feel you come. I need to feel it."

Derek's teeth clamped down on his bottom lip as he fought back the keen that threatened to spill from his mouth. Stiles taking control was hotter than it had any right to be and Derek was drowning in it. Stiles pumped Derek's cock fast and hard a few more times and then swiped his thumb over the dripping head, his wrist twisting just so, and Derek fucking lost it. His body went rigid, his legs locking so tightly around Stiles that the teen could only grind against him, smearing come where Derek shot between them. Derek's head fell back, his mouth open as Stiles' name was ripped from his chest, the single word strangled and broken.

"Holy God." Stiles hissed, burying his face into the side of Derek's neck as he worked him through it. He rocked against Derek, his own pre-come smoothing the way as his cock slipped a little closer to Derek's hole. Derek shuddered under him, a full body shiver that made his body shift just right, and Stiles bit down hard on Derek's shoulder as his own orgasm crashed through him.

Breathing raggedly, Stiles collapsed on Derek's chest, his face smooshed into one solid pec. Derek's legs fell open limply but his arms held Stiles close. They laid together in a sweaty tangle of bodies, neither of them eager to move.

"Morning." Stiles eventually mumbled, his lips catching on Derek's skin as they brushed over it.

Derek chuckled warmly, his hand sliding up and down Stiles' spine. "Good morning."

"It really is." Stiles sighed, nuzzling in and kissing Derek's chest, right above his heart.

Derek clenched his teeth around the words that wanted to be spoken, knowing that that particular moment was the worst possible moment to say them, while simultaneously wondering if he was ready to say them at all. He hadn't spoken them out loud to anyone other than Scott, Melissa, and Lydia since his parents and sisters were killed. The powerful urge to say them now was disconcerting and made Derek feel even more off-kilter than he had since the moment he met Stiles.

"It was, anyway." Stiles, oblivious to Derek's snarl of thoughts, pushed himself up, wincing at the tacky come that had begun drying between them and was no doubt uncomfortable in the cleft of Derek's ass. Stiles grimaced apologetically at Derek as he carefully pulled away. "I have to go. My dad's expecting me at breakfast."

Derek nodded, knowing that this moment was coming but taken by surprise by how opposed he was to Stiles actually having to leave his bed. "I understand."

Stiles frowned, his lip sticking out endearingly. "You sure? I don't want you to think that I'm an asshole for pulling a hit and run."

A genuine laugh burst out of Derek, much to Stiles' amusement. "I already know you're an asshole, Stiles. That ship has sailed." Stiles just smiled wider, his eyes lit up with laughter. "Go see your parents. If I keep you here neither of them will ever be okay with this."

Stiles hesitated but leaned down to press a kiss to Derek's mouth before climbing off of him and heading for the bathroom. "You know, I think my mom might actually be sort of okay with us." Stiles called over the sound of running water. "She wasn't nearly as pissed as my dad."

Derek thought that was understating, or maybe overstating, things just a little. "Just because she wasn't overtly angry doesn't mean she accepts a twenty-six year old fucking her teenage son." Derek shouted back.

Stiles emerged from the bathroom and tossed a cool cloth at Derek. "Good thing you're not twenty-six yet." He smirked while Derek wiped the come off his stomach. "Besides, she doesn't know we're having sex. Hell, we _weren't_ having sex until last night. I really think she might be okay with it. And, if she's okay with it, she can talk my dad around."

Derek snorted. "We'll see about that."

Stiles ducked the cloth when Derek chucked it at him, leaping onto the bed and laughing buoyantly when Derek caught him around the waist, flipping them before Stiles could land on Derek's chest. Derek kissed him soundly, cutting off his laughter but not the smile he wore. Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek's neck, peppering happy kisses over his face while Derek chuckled.

"You're ridiculous." Derek said, his tone helplessly amused.

"You love it." Stiles pushed another kiss to Derek's lips before shoving him away and clambering off the bed.

Derek stared after him and tried to ignore his brain as it screamed, _"Yeah, I really do."_

Once fully dressed, Stiles knelt back on the edge of the bed and dropped a lingering kiss on Derek's lips. "I really have to go." He said apologetically. "I'll text you later?"

"I have to work this afternoon so, I'll call you when I'm done." Derek ran a hand through Stiles' hair, realizing he was actually going to miss him when he left.

"Okay." Stiles nodded, gave Derek one more kiss and then turned around and left.

Derek stared at the empty doorway long after he heard the front door slam shut, trying to work out exactly when he'd fallen head over heels in love with a mouthy teenager whose father could kill Derek and make it look like an accident.

 

___________________________________

 

Stiles managed to make it back to the cabin before either of his parents were out of their bedroom, but just barely. He'd been in the shower for all of five minutes when Isaac was poking his head through the bathroom door and telling him to hurry up, Mom was awake and wanted to talk to him. Stiles rushed through his shower and quickly dried off, throwing on jeans and a plain white t-shirt before stumbling out onto the deck where Claudia was waiting.

Stiles could tell she just woke up, her eyes still a little puffy with sleep, her hair, the same warm shade of brown as his, pulled up in a messy top-knot, her baggy sweater half hanging off one shoulder.

"Hey, Mom." Stiles said nervously, trying not to think about the smattering of bruises, stubble burn, and bite marks littered under his clothes. "Isaac said you wanted to talk to me?"

"Hey, baby." Claudia smiled tiredly at her youngest son, patting the Adirondack chair beside her own for him to sit.

Stiles sat at the very edge of the seat, his knees bouncing restlessly as he waited for his mother to speak.

"Do you want to tell me what's going on with you and the dance instructor?" Claudia asked, leaning her chin in her hand and watching Stiles carefully.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting in place and fighting the blush that wanted to rise on his cheeks. "Derek. His name is Derek." Stiles croaked.

"Derek, then." Claudia corrected, her tone soft and so very much the understanding mother.

"He's... We're... I don't..." Stiles stuttered, picking at the edges of his fingernails and scratching at his jaw.

"Stiles." his mother mercifully cut in, "Do you care about him?"

Stiles didn't acknowledge or deny it, but he had a feeling Claudia didn't need it.

"And does he feel the same way?" she asked gently.

Stiles thought about the way Derek held him while they slept, the reverent way he kissed Stiles' lips, how Derek had been so determined to take things slow between them. "Yeah. I think he does." he said after a minute, his voice small.

Claudia sighed heavily and stood from her seat to perch on the arm of Stiles' chair. Stiles leaned his forehead against her thigh, a familiar and comforting habit he developed so long ago he couldn't even remember the first time he'd done it, and Claudia rubbed her hand over the back of his head, smoothing down his hair. "Your father will come around, baby. Just give him some time, yeah?"

Stiles smiled and made a mental note to tell Derek he was right. He turned his head, resting his cheek on her leg. "You're not going to yell at me and tell me what a stupid mistake it is to get involved with an older guy while on vacation?"

Claudia's lips turned up at the corners. "Stiles, you may be my son but you're not a child. You're eighteen years old and I know that your father and I have done well in raising you. You're smart enough to make your own choices, no matter what we might think about it." She paused, tugging gently at Stiles' hair until he lifted his head to meet her eyes. "Have you two thought this through?" she asked. "Summer won't last forever. You're going to New York in a few weeks and where will that leave Derek?"

Stiles' chest squeezed at the reminder about Columbia and that this summer eventually had to come to an end, one way or another. "He lives in Wolfwicke." Stiles muttered, his throat tight.

"So, you see him when you come home on breaks." Claudia considered it. "Is that enough? For either of you?"

Stiles swallowed around the nervous nauseousness that suddenly assuaged him. He could feel the familiar edge of anxiety well up in his throat at the idea of even suggesting going against the plan his parents laid out for him, for his life."Mom, what if I-" he cut himself off, panicking and feeling his chest full on constrict, the sensation of a thousand rubber bands squeezing his lungs making him heave for breath.

"Easy." His mother encouraged, rubbing a hand between his shoulder blades. "Take a few deep breaths."

Stiles did as she told him, sucking in as much air as he could before blowing it out again. It took a few excruciatingly long moments of Claudia murmuring gentle words and anchoring him with a her soothing touch, but he finally managed to stave off a full blown panic attack. He was still breathing hard and shallow, his palms damp and clammy, but he didn't feel like a cinder block was balancing on his chest anymore. He blinked rapidly, clearing his vision where it had gone a little hazy.

"Try again." Claudia prompted.

It took him another minute before he screwed up the courage to speak. "What if I don't want to go to Columbia?" Stiles blurted and then winced, his shoulders hunching forward in preparation for his mother's angry but gentle scolding.

Claudia didn't reply at first, her eyes roaming her son's face searchingly, as though looking for something specific. Finally, when Stiles was starting to fidget in his seat, she leaned forward and fixed him with serious eyes. "Stiles, if I asked you why you didn't want to go to one of the best schools in the country, would Derek's name be among the reasons?"

"Yes." he answered immediately and honestly. "But, this isn't about Derek, Mom."

"Then tell me what it is about. Help me understand."

Stiles took a steady breath, turning in place to better face his mother, and then did his best to explain. "I don't want to go to Columbia because I don't want to be a lawyer. Or a judge, for that matter. I'm sorry, Mom. I know that you and Dad want me to do this, but it's not what I want."

"And what it is that you do want, Stiles?" Claudia asked, her tone deliberate but not angry, which threw Stiles off.

"Um. I, uh, I want to apply to the Police Academy." he admitted, not looking his mother in the eye, instead staring out at the lake. "I want to stay in Beacon Hills and work at the Sheriff's station, like Dad."

When his mother didn't outright dismiss the idea, not even speaking out against it, Stiles reluctantly turned his head back toward her. He was startled, and more than a little confused, to see the delicate smile tugging up the corners of her lips.

"You're not mad?" he questioned, brows tipped down to match his frown.

Claudia's smile curled a bit more and she shook her head fondly. "I'm a little disappointed that you waited until now to tell me this, but I can't say that I'm all that surprised." Stiles gaped at her, his response sticking in his throat. "Isaac always wanted to be a doctor. When he got his acceptance letter to Cornell he was the happiest I've ever seen him. Until he got his med school acceptance, that is. But, you... I wondered when your letter came from Columbia. You were happy but there was something almost sad under it. You never said anything, so I thought maybe you were just nervous about going to school on the other side of the country."

Stiles looked guiltily down at his hands, his fingers wringing together. "I'm sorry, Mom. I should have told you."

"Yes. You should have." she agreed. "So, why didn't you? I know you, sweetheart. You've never been afraid to speak your mind. Your father and I raised you boys to stand up for yourselves, and to be able to talk to us."

"I was afraid." Stiles nearly whispered. "You and Dad have wanted law school for me since I was in junior high. Back then, I thought I wanted it too. I really did. But now... Dad's going to be disappointed and I hate that I'm the one who's doing that to him."

"Stiles, your father loves you." Claudia wrapped her arms around Stiles' shoulders, pulling him into a hug. "You and Isaac are the greatest thing to ever happen to us. There is nothing, absolutely nothing, that either of you could ever do to change how much we love you. Your father might be upset for a while, but eventually he's going to understand that you made the right decision for yourself and he's going to be proud of that."

"You really think so?" Stiles asked hopefully. His mother being so understanding made him feel like an idiot for having waited so long to talk to her about college. It also made him feel guilty for not telling her about Derek in the beginning. Maybe if he had, things would be different now.

"I do." Claudia smiled and kissed the top of his head. "Talk to him, Stiles. Arguably, the timing could be better, but the sooner you rip off the band-aid the sooner it can start to heal."

"He's already angry with me." Stiles muttered miserably, remembering the disappointment in his father's eyes the night before.

"He is." Claudia nodded. "But you can't fix it until you face it. Talk to him."

Stiles pulled out of his mother's arms, surreptitiously rubbing at his prickling eyes. He looked up at Claudia, his heart aching just a little less than it had when they'd started talking. "Thanks, Mom." At her quizzical expression he added, "For understanding my wanting to stay in Beacon Hills. And, for not hating Derek just because of who you might think he is."

"I trust your judgment, Stiles. If you care about him as much as I think you do, he can't be who your father wants to believe he is. I do expect a proper introduction, however, once you and your father have worked things out."

Stiles smiled as he stood from his chair, pulling her up with him. "I think Derek would like that."

"Now, come on." Claudia pulled Stiles toward the door. "We have a breakfast to get through."

Stiles' chest tightened at the reminder but with his mother's hand wrapped around his, he followed her back into the cabin.

 

_________________________________

 

Breakfast turned out to be one of the most strained meals Stiles had ever shared with his family. Throughout the entirety of the meal John ignored Stiles as much as possible, never looking him in the eye and only addressing Isaac or Claudia directly.

Stiles was slouched down in his seat, pushing grapes around on his plate with a fork and wishing he could simply melt into his chair and blink out of existence, if only so his dad might actually look in his direction. He tried distracting himself with thoughts of Derek but when blood flooded south at the memory of Derek inside him, he quickly abandoned that plan.

"Good morning, Stilinskis." Jackson greeted, appearing beside their table, clipboard in hand.

"Oh, good morning, Jackson." Claudia gave him a friendly smile.

"Have you signed up for Saturday's talent show?" Jackson asked around the table, his eyes lingering when they passed over Stiles. "Stiles already volunteered to help with props."

Stiles rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to flip Jackson the bird in front of his parents. Jackson smirked at him as though he'd done it anyway.

"We're leaving tomorrow." The Sheriff said stiffly, his eyes never leaving the bowl of oatmeal he was working on.

"Tomorrow?" Stiles balked, bolting upright in his seat and staring wide-eyed at his father.

"John." Claudia laid a hand on his arm at the same moment Isaac said, "But I already signed up to sing."

Stiles' heart thumped heavy and rapid in his chest as he stared at his father.

"We're paid up until Sunday, John." Claudia reminded her husband, her hand stroking his forearm. "The boys are excited for the show."

John sighed heavily, his gaze unwavering on his wife's face. "It was just an idea. I thought we could beat the traffic. Nevermind, we can stay if you want." He covered her hand with his own and gave it a squeeze before turning to his oldest son. "So, Isaac, what were you planning to sing?"

Isaac launched into a list of songs he was thinking about using, effectively cutting off any other discussion on the subject of leaving. Stiles fell back heavily in his chair, blowing out a pent up breath and giving his mother a reassuring nod when she turned concerned eyes on him.

While his father hung on every word Isaac spoke, Stiles went back to shoving grapes around his plate and resolutely ignoring the vacant sensation in his stomach.


	15. When The Day Met The Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! 
> 
> First, I want to thank you for being so patient with this update. I know this one is late and I'm sorry about that.
> 
> Second, I promised you all two chapters for this update to make up for the lateness. This is just the first one! The second one will be posted by Wednesday, and then we'll be back to the regular posting schedule (Sunday afternoons).

A trip into town hadn't been on Derek's immediate agenda but that's exactly where he was headed nearly an hour after Stiles left to meet up with his family. Derek needed to pick up the antibiotic Dr. Stilinski had prescribed for Lydia before his shift was scheduled to begin, so he went straight to the pharmacy. He nodded to a few familiar faces, townies that he recognized from having seen them around every summer, stopped briefly to say good morning to Mrs. Davis, the spitfire elderly woman he taught to mambo last year. The line at the pharmacy window wasn't long at all, and Derek was in and out faster than he'd expected, antibiotic and pain meds both firmly in hand.

He decided to drop into the town's only coffee shop before heading back to the resort, needing a jolt of caffeine to boost his energy reserves, which were severely depleted and nearing empty. While waiting for the barista to make his coffee Derek pulled out his phone to fire off a quick text to Allison, asking how Lydia had done overnight and to let her know that he'd be there as soon as he finished up in town.

"Checking in with the boyfriend?" Kate asked, startling Derek sheerly by her proximity, her breasts a hair's distance from pressing into his back.

Derek's shoulders stiffened as he pulled away from her, his body rejecting the feel of her radiating heat so close to him. He turned around to find her smirking up at him, her body language trying to convey nonchalance and friendly curiosity, but her eyes burning with something darker and all together disquieting.

"Kate." Derek said by way of greeting, carefully putting a respectable distance between them.

Kate chuckled, her eyes raking over him as she gave her order to the cashier. When she finished, she turned her attention back to Derek. "You've been avoiding me." she said, hands on her hips and eyes no softer than they'd been the moment before.

"I see you twice a week for lessons." Derek reminded her, shoving his hands into his pockets to hide the tight clench of his fists. Ever since Stiles' run-in with Kate, Derek found himself having to physically hold himself back from snapping at her with biting words and angry responses. It was a reaction he fought against mostly to ensure his future employment at Redwood. Tearing into a guest, especially one as wealthy as an Argent, was a surefire way to find himself on the wrong end of Finstock's ire and without a summer job to escape to.

Kate pushed her bottom lip out in what Derek guessed was supposed to be an attempt at an adorable pout, and probably would have been in the month or two previous. Now however, it made Derek wonder how he'd ever allowed himself to be sucked in by Kate in the first place.

When they met, Derek had thought her to be exactly what he was looking for. A beautiful partner to share a bed, someone he could care about without fear of ever actually losing his heart. He thought she was sweet even, which now made him cough to cover the snort that immediately followed that thought. Kate was supposed to be easy. A fun, no strings attached, mutually beneficial non-relationship that they could both walk away from when the summer started fading into fall. Kate was supposed to be nothing more than a fling.

It had worked beautifully for three whole summers.

But somewhere along the way, wires had gotten crossed. Kate started looking at Derek as a possession, something she could do with as she pleased because he belonged to her. It hadn't bothered Derek at first, mostly because he knew that when the season came to a close he would go back to Wolfwicke and Kate would return to France, and that would be the end of it. But, Kate made a point to visit Allison as often as possible, popping up in town when no one expected it. Insinuating herself into Allison and Scott's lives, and by proxy, Derek's, she quickly started blurring the lines between what she and Derek actually were to one another and what Kate wanted them to be. Summer fling crossed the boundaries into the remaining three seasons and adopted an edge of something Derek was deliberately trying to avoid. Easy and carefree got twisted into possessive and jealous, no strings attached morphed into a knotted web of snarled threads, and Derek didn't know how to untangle himself without fucking everything up in the process.

Until he met Stiles. After that, it hadn't mattered to Derek how he ended things as long as he ended them. From the moment Derek had Stiles in his arms on the dance floor, bodies pressed together and Stiles' wide, molten caramel eyes burning bright and brimming with untempered interest, Derek had been lost. It hadn't even been a question of how at that point, but merely when.

Kate had acted cool and aloof when Derek rebuffed her advances during one of their sessions but now he thought that maybe he should have seen the cold steel in her eyes then, the way he was seeing it now. Maybe Derek had been too quick to dismiss Scott's warning that Kate was the vindictive sort, the type that wouldn't let Derek go simply because he chose to walk away.

"It's hardly the same thing, is it?" Kate asked, dragging Derek back into the present, slipping her hands into the back pockets of her jeans and arching her body toward him. "Don't you miss me at all, baby?" she all but cooed, smiling and glancing up at him through her lashes.

"We're not doing this again, Kate." Derek crossed his arms over his chest, putting an added barrier between them. "You and I are over, and we both know it."

Derek's coffee appeared on the counter then, but as he reached for it, so did Kate. Her fingers closed over his and she leaned into him, bending at the waist and offering him a generous view down the front of her tank top. When she spoke, she was so close that her breath whispered over his skin with each word. "He can't be enough for you, Derek. We both know that, too." She trailed her fingers up the back of his hand, over his wrist and up his forearm, tracing swirling lines into the sensitive bend of his elbow. "Come back to my cabin with me. Let me remind you how good we are together."

His jaw clenched painfully tight, Derek shook his head and picked up his coffee, ready to put as much distance between them as he could, for as long as possible. "No, Kate. This is over. You and I are over. Whatever there was between us is done, and now so are your lessons." Kate's eyes flared angrily at that but Derek continued, his expression hard and unwavering. "You fucking with Stiles is over, too. Understand? Leave him alone, Kate. I mean it."

Kate's sweet facade slipped, a furious sneer curling her lips instead. She stepped closer, moving into his space, knowing that he wouldn't step back, wouldn't give up ground to her. Pushing herself up to full height, she dropped her voice. Her tone was low and smoky when she told him, "This is far from over. You and your boy-toy have an expiration date, Derek. Don't delude yourself into thinking otherwise."

Without another backward glance, Derek headed for the door, the jagged edge of his temper seething just beneath the surface of his skin. The threat in Kate's words wasn't explicit but it was implied enough to make Derek's nerves prickle with warning. She'd already confronted Stiles in the dining hall, in front of her niece no less, and shown up at The Preserve with Aiden in tow. Nothing so far had been enough to make Derek worry about her intentions but just then he found himself wondering if he shouldn't have been waiting for the other shoe to drop all along.

 

_________________________________________

 

Hands shoved into the pockets of his cargo shorts, head hanging so low his chin was nearly resting on his chest, Stiles left the dining hall feeling much more dejected and rundown than he had when he left Derek's cabin that morning. Not even Isaac's promise that he was planning on breaking things off with Aiden in favor of Scott and Allison was enough to brighten Stiles' day.

Rather than spend the afternoon sulking until Derek finished his shift, Stiles decided to head over to Lydia's cabin. He promised his mother that he'd check on Lydia since Claudia wouldn't be able to do it herself until later in the afternoon. Despite his father's orders to stay away from his entire group of friends, there was no way in hell Stiles was going to abandon any of them now. Even if he hadn't agreed at Claudia's behest, he would have been on his way to Lydia's as soon as breakfast was through anyway. It was a given, really.

Kicking at rocks and dragging his feet all the way there, Stiles tried to clear his head. His father's avoidance weighed down on him, making him feel worse than he already did. Their relationship had never been strained to that kind of degree before. Sure, they'd had their ups and downs, arguments and disagreements, like every other father and son in the history of the world. Stiles had just never seen the Sheriff look at him with so much disappointment written in every line of his face. Even the time Stiles and Isaac had skipped school in order to drive three hours to see one of their favorite bands play a show hadn't resulted in that grim expression painting his father's face, casting his eyes in hard shadows. It made Stiles' stomach churn with guilt, his chest aching with the knowledge that even if he could somehow handle his father being so upset with him, he was only going to add to it by informing him that he had no intentions of going to Columbia in the fall. No matter which way Stiles turned, his father was going to be hurt by his choices. There was really nothing Stiles could do other than try to fix things once they were broken.

By the time he reached Lydia's front steps Stiles only succeeded in making himself feel worse about the whole situation. With a sigh, he gave up and knocked on the cabin's front door.

Allison answered, dark smudges beneath both eyes, her face drawn tight and tired. She looked like she hadn't gotten a wink of sleep, and knowing her, she probably hadn't. Stiles imagined her sitting up all night, keeping watch over Lydia. Allison's face brightened a fraction when she realized it was Stiles standing on the porch. "Oh, Hey! Lydia was just asking about you."

Stiles' brows knotted together over a confused frown. "She was?"

"Yeah." Allison nodded, waving him into the cabin. "Come on, she's still in bed."

Stiles followed her through the living room and down the hall to Lydia's bedroom. He was relieved to see his favorite redhead sitting up in bed, a mountain of pillows piled high at her back. She smiled sleepily at him when he sat down beside her, one arm snaking around her shoulders.

"How are you feeling, gorgeous?" Stiles asked, leaning back into her pillows while Allison settled at the bottom of the bed.

"Better, thanks to you." Lydia leaned into his side, wincing when she shifted her hips.

Stiles snorted his disagreement. "Thanks to my mother, you mean."

An exhausted sigh slipped past her lips. "If you hadn't gone to your parents, who knows what could have happened."

"Yeah, well." Stiles shrugged the shoulder Lydia wasn't resting against. "I wasn't going to just let you suffer. You needed help and my mom's a doctor. I did what I had to."

Lydia and Allison traded looks while Stiles fiddled with the sleeve of Lydia's t-shirt.

"Scott said that your dad was really angry with you last night." Allison ventured hesitantly, apparently losing whatever argument she and Lydia had been having via silent facial expressions.

"It's not a big deal." Stiles muttered, though it very much was. He didn't want Lydia to feel like it was her fault his father was so angry with him.

"I'm sorry, Stiles." Lydia said softy, her hazel-green eyes wide and moist. "This is all my fault."

"Jesus, Lydia." Stiles turned enough in place that he could meet her gaze directly. Her bottom lip wobbled and Stiles' heart clenched. "This isn't your fault, okay? I'm the one that made the decision to lie to my father all summer. Just like I made the decision to ask them for help last night. My dad being pissed is all on me."

Lydia nodded but Stiles knew she wasn't letting him shoulder the guilt alone. He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "You know, we never got the chance to tell you how it went." Stiles tried, aiming for a change of subject.

Lydia's face scrunched up while she tried to follow his train of thought. When realization dawned, her eyebrows rose in question, a tentative smile teasing at her lips. "Well?"

Stiles smiled his first genuine, full force smile since he'd left Derek's bed. "It was good. I fucked up the lift, but it was really good otherwise." He didn't tell them about Kate and Aiden, unsure if it meant anything at all, and if it did, sure that he shouldn't burden either of them with that right then.

"You would have been proud of him, Lyds. I was." Derek said from the doorway, surprising a tiny stutter of noise from Stiles.

"Holy God, man." Stiles huffed, narrowing his eyes at Derek where he lingered just inside the doorway. "Make some noise when you move. Announce yourself or something."

"Burden of being a dancer." Derek shrugged, amusement glittering in his eyes. "I'm light on my feet."

"I just decided what to get you for your birthday." Stiles announced. When Derek hefted a brow in question, Stiles grinned. "Spurs. You won't be able to sneak up on me, then. And they'll look good with all that leather."

Derek rolled his eyes but still leaned down to drop a quick kiss to Stiles' lips, easing some of the tightness in the teenager's chest, before walking around to the other side of the bed and sitting beside Lydia.

"I got your 'scripts." he told her, already opening the prescription bottles and shaking out a pill from each. "Dr. Stilinski said to take one pill, three times a day until they're all gone." he explained as he handed her the antibitoic and a bottle of water. When he gave her the pain medication he told her, "This one is one pill every six hours."

Lydia dutifully took her medicine, swallowing them down before handing her water back to Derek.

"So, last night was good?" Allison queried, eyes skipping back and forth between Stiles and Derek.

Stiles smiled goofily, a light blush staining his cheeks. "Yeah." He nodded, clearing his throat as he fought to wrangle his smile.

Lydia's gaze followed the same path Allison's had the moment before, her eyes narrowing as she looked between the men in her bed. "Oh for Christ's sake." She slapped an open palm against Stiles' thigh, a gentle curve gracing her lips despite the reprimand in her tone. "That's not what she meant."

Looking perplexed, Allison frowned and tilted her head in question. All at once she seemed to understand what Lydia was saying and her dimpled smile replaced the frown, tinkling laughter spilling from between her lips.

"On that note." Blushing crimson, Stiles stood from the bed, quickly pushing to his feet before turning around to press his lips to Derek's in a solitary kiss. "I gotta go. If I'm late meeting Erica she'll make me watch Twilight again."

Derek chuckled, the sound filling some of the hollowness behind Stiles' ribcage. "She does know that you actually like Twilight, right?"

Stiles shoved Derek's shoulder hard enough that he tipped sideways, grinning smugly the whole time. "Way to keep my secret, dick." Stiles complained, though he too was smiling. "I told you that in confidence! Just for that... Hey, Lydia. Did you know that Derek here really loves-"

Derek cut him off by slapping a hand over his mouth. "Go meet Erica." Derek ordered, his tone warm and helplessly amused.

Stiles nodded before Derek released him. He said his goodbyes to the girls and headed for the hall, stopping in the doorway and turning to look over his shoulder. An evil grin tugged up the corners of his mouth and before Derek could stop him, Stiles blurted, "Derek read the Fifty Shades series three times.", before he hauled ass for the front door.

Derek flopped back on Lydia's bed with a groan while both women laughed hysterically for much longer than he thought necessary. "I'm going to kill him." Derek sighed, scrubbing both hands over his face.

"No you won't." Lydia patted his chest soothingly when she finally managed to contain her giggles. "You'd miss him before you even started digging the hole."

Derek didn't even bother arguing.


	16. I'm Not A Coward, I'm Just Terrified

The loft was empty, save for Stiles and the vibrating strains of a classic rock anthem pulsing out from Derek's iPod dock. Stiles took full advantage of the solitude and moved freely around the open floor, swinging his hips in time with the beat and riffing out some serious power chords on his air guitar as he went. He let his limbs move however they deemed fit, his legs carrying him around the floor with confident strides he would have been incapable of just the month or two previous.

Derek hadn't returned from his final lesson of the day yet, and Erica had a date with Boyd in town she had to get ready for, so Stiles found himself with only his own thoughts as entertainment. As a result, less than ten minutes after Erica disappeared into the late afternoon light, Stiles had flooded the loft with music and lost himself in it. He much preferred the throbbing notes filling his head over allowing himself to stew in his own thoughts for any significant length of time.

Stiles was halfway through his best Freddie Mercury impression when Jackson stepped into the loft, his eyes sparkling with humor that was mirrored in the sound of his laughter. "Oh, please, don't let me interrupt." Jackson teased with a smirk, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the doorjamb.

Stiles grinned as he used the remote in his pocket to lower the volume of the music. "Sorry to disappoint, but this is a private show." he tossed over his shoulder, striding across the room to swipe a towel from where it was draped over the back of a chair.

Jackson watched him drag the towel across his forehead, wiping away the thin sheen of sweat dotting his brow before trailing it down the line of his neck. "Speaking of which, where's Derek?" Jackson cleared his throat to ask, moving further into the loft.

Stiles glanced at the clock hanging above the door, calculating how long it had been since Derek texted last. He shrugged. "Probably still with his client. Did you need to see him?"

It was Jackson's turn to shrug. "Just need to run something by him. Do you mind if I hang around? Wait until he shows up?"

"Nah." Stiles smiled as he plopped down onto his back on the raised platform at the furthest side of the room, one leg dangling off the edge. "I could honestly use the company."

Jackson sat down beside him, drawing his feet up underneath him and twisting his legs into a vague pretzel-like shape. "Something wrong?" he asked, looking down at Stiles' face, genuine concern coloring his curious gaze.

Stiles sighed, rolling his head back so that he could meet Jackson's eyes. "How long do you have?"

 

___________________________________________________

 

Derek was exhausted by the time he managed to extricate himself from his final lesson of the day. His morning caffeine fix had worn off somewhere long before noon and he was running on fumes for the rest of the day. Between the confrontation with Kate that morning and the lack of sleep the night before, Derek wanted nothing more than to fall into bed with Stiles and sleep for the foreseeable future. But, as was the running theme of Derek's life, things never seemed to work out the way he planned.

Before he could even head to the loft to meet Stiles he had to swing by Lydia's. She was going stir-crazy, stuck on bed rest for the next day or two, but her smile was genuinely elated when she told Derek that Dr. Stilinksi had informed her of her ability to still bear children. Scott had nearly teared up, as had Derek, while Lydia cried tears of relief and mourning into Derek's neck. He'd honestly wondered when they would come, the tears for the child Lydia hadn't been ready for but whose existence was irrevocably entwined with her own just the same.

Derek's entire body was dragging when he forced himself to leave Lydia's cabin and make his way to the loft. His spirit lifted a fraction when he heard the unmistakable sound of Stiles' laughter carry down from the open door. Derek felt the smile curl his lips at the thought of Stiles and Erica joking and laughing, spending time together and enjoying each others company. Not for the first time, Derek was thrilled at the knowledge that Stiles fit so well into his life, into his circle of friends. Some days it felt like Stiles had always been there, had always been a part of Derek, of his world.

As he shuffled up the stairs Derek's skin prickled uncomfortably, a heavy sensation settling at the base of his spine. He was confused for all of half a beat until he realized that the laughter accompanying Stiles' didn't belong to Erica at all, but Jackson. Derek made a deep, irritated sound in his throat, his footsteps falling harder against the wooden steps as he climbed the remaining few. He was sure he was scowling by the time he reached the doorway, his brows furrowed in annoyance. He was also sure that his scowl morphed into a full blown glare when he took in the scene before him.

Stiles and Jackson were both shirtless, skin shiny with sweat where they stood in the middle of the open floor. Stiles had his head thrown back, baring his throat as the laughter spilled from his lips. Jackson shoved him back with a hand in the center of his chest, his own laughter triggering an echoing growl from Derek's chest. Neither of them seemed to notice Derek in the doorway, seemingly immersed in whatever they found so amusing.

That was until Derek actually crossed the threshold.

As if sensing him, Stiles turned his attention to the door, his eyes crinkling at the corners as they landed on Derek. His smile faltered but he didn't allow it to fall. "There you are." Stiles met Derek's gaze head on, his expression open and welcoming, legitimately glad to see him. "Jackson was just teaching me a hip-hop routine he and Danny made up back in high school."

"Here I am." Derek gritted, ignoring the latter half of Stiles' greeting in favor of crossing the room to drop his gym bag on the floor with a loud thud. Stiles flinched at the sound but jutted his shoulders back defiantly all the same.

"Derek." Jackson smirked as he draped his shirt over one shoulder, arching a brow that was somehow both challenging and sarcastic.

"Jackson." Derek bit out, leaning heavily against the table where the iPod dock sat, aiming for carelessness but failing by a wide margin.

Stiles chewed the inside of his cheek to stop himself from inserting himself between the two posturing males, instead opting to roll his eyes. Holding his tongue didn't last long as Derek glowered and Jackson grinned from across the room. Never one to endure silence, Stiles spoke up, "Jackson needed to talk to you about something."

Derek lifted one of his own heavy brows, an expression that Stiles recognized as an impatient "Get on with it then".

Jackson chuckled low in his chest and Stiles fought the urge to smile in return. "My uncle wanted me to talk to you about Saturday. He wants to 'try something new', apparently." Jackson explained airily.

Derek perked up at that, his black look relaxing the barest bit. "Really? Because I have a lot of great ideas for a new routine. I've been working with the entertainment staff on a Latin infusion that I think-"

"Derek, you and I both know there's no way in hell Coach is going to go for that." Jackson cut him off, a sympathetic frown marring his face. "He just wants a slight variation on the Pachanga instead of the usual Mambo."

Derek's jaw clenched tight, a muscle twitching under the pressure as he ground his teeth together. "Right. Of course." he snapped, glaring hotly at a spot just behind Jackson's shoulder.

Jackson glanced at Stiles, with an apologetic grimace before he pulled his shirt over his head and turned back to Derek. "Look, I know the final dance is your domain, Derek. I know that you want to make it great, turn it into something new and awesome... But, you know how my uncle is."

Derek didn't speak, didn't even acknowledge that Jackson had spoken. Instead, he continued to glare at the wall, his shoulders rigid with a barely restrained flare of anger.

"I guess I'll leave you guys to it, then." Jackson shrugged at Stiles, offering him a small, supportive smile before he took his leave.

"Derek-" Stiles tried after several long minutes passed in painful silence, the only sound in the room the barely there music that had been relegated to background noise upon Derek's arrival.

"Don't." Derek snapped, his tone sharp and serrated.

Stiles had a moment to snort derisively before he hurried to catch up with Derek, who had stormed out of the loft. Stiles clattered down the staircase, reaching the bottom in time to see Derek's furious form disappear down the path toward his cabin.

"Der, come on!" Stiles called, almost running in an effort to close the distance between them. "Talk to me." he panted as he reached out to wrap his fingers around Derek's arm. Derek jerked away, his face a dark thundercloud. "Hey!" Stiles reached out again, this time succeeding in catching Derek by the elbow. It didn't stop Derek's enraged strides but it did slow them down enough to allow Stiles to come up even. "Talk to me." he repeated, his own temper edging into his tone. "I know that it sucks being told what you can and can't do but this isn't my fault, nor is it Jackson's. Don't take your anger at Finstock out on us."

"That asshole wouldn't know what a new idea was if it jumped up and bit him in the ass." Derek half shouted, his long legs angrily eating up the path beneath them. "He wants new ideas, I could give him some new ideas."

"So, go talk to him." Stiles said as though it were truly that simple. "Tell him what you want to do instead."

"What? You mean fight him on it?" Derek huffed an irritated and disbelieving breath.

"Sure, yeah. Why the hell not?" Stiles eyes sparked with determination. "Go find Finstock and tell him your ideas. He's a person just like everybody else. I'm sure if-"

"Look, I know these people, Stiles." Derek cut in, exasperated. "They're rich and they are mean. They won't listen to me."

"Then fight harder! Make them listen, Derek." Stiles urged. "What's stopping you?"

"Oh, I don't know." Derek growled. "Maybe because I need this fucking job lined up for next summer? I can't work for my uncle full-time, Stiles. I can't."

"So then we find you something else." Stiles rebutted. "There are other jobs, Derek."

"You don't get it, Stiles!" Derek all but roared, stopping in his tracks and whirling on Stiles. Stiles' steps stuttered under him but he lifted his chin and faced down Derek's rage. "You can't possibly understand. You're going to Columbia. You're going to be some hot-shot lawyer and you'll never have to worry about another thing for the rest of your life. You don't know what it's like to worry about shit like this."

Stiles opened his mouth to argue, to yell right back and tell Derek how wrong he was, when his father's voice reached his ears. Stiles panicked, grabbed Derek by the arm and pulled him down into a crouch, half hidden by a wall of ferns. When he dared to peak out from their hiding spot Stiles saw his father, Isaac, and Aiden walking down the path below them. The Sheriff was all smiles, throwing a companionable arm around both younger men, despite the fact that Isaac looked decidedly uncomfortable. Apparently he hadn't gotten up the nerve to tell their father about Scott and Allison yet, either.

Stiles glanced at Derek out of the corner of his eye and cringed at the hurt and betrayal he saw in every line of Derek's face. "I don't think they saw us." Stiles whispered as they stood, his throat tight as he cast his eyes down.

"Fight harder, huh?" Derek's voice echoed with pain and something even Stiles didn't recognize, though it made shame wash through him. "I don't see you fighting so hard, Stiles. I don't see you running off to daddy, telling him I'm your guy."

"I will!" Stiles defended himself. Even to his own ears the words sounded hollow, a practiced response that had become automatic rather than the promise he wanted it to be. "Look, with my dad... It's complicated. I will tell him, Derek. I swear-"

"I don't believe you, Stiles!" Derek shook his head, his voice thick with resigned defeat and charred anger. "I don't think that you ever had any intention of telling him about me. Ever. If he hadn't have come with your mother to Lydia's, you never would have even told him I existed, much less that we're together."

"That's not true, Derek!" Stiles heard the plea in his voice and didn't care. He could feel Derek slipping away from him, pulling away with each new breath, and his heart broke with it. "Please. Just give me a little more time. I promise I'll talk to him. Please, Derek."

"You know, maybe you were right from the beginning." Derek shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, his eyes looking everywhere but at Stiles. In his mind was the crystal clear picture of Stiles with his head thrown back, laughing freely with Jackson as though nothing dark could ever touch him. "You said your parents wanted to see you with someone like Jackson."

"I don't want Jackson, Derek, and you know it. I don't fucking want anyone but you!" The pleading tone was threaded through with panic and Stiles' stomach turned. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you that Jackson I are _just friends_. That's all he and I will ever be." Stiles tried to take a step closer but Derek moved back. Stiles' stomach dropped, everything inside him snarling and whimpering with a force that left him dizzy and breathless. "Derek..." he whispered, pain and fear lancing through him like lightning, hot and sharp.

"I gotta go." Derek muttered.

Without another word, without so much as a glance back to see if Stiles crumbled right there on that dirt path, Derek simply walked away.

 

_________________________________________________________

 

Stiles didn't get a wink of sleep that night. He laid in his bed, tossing and turning like a buoy in the ocean, but his eyes never once managed to slip shut. Isaac stumbled in around 3 am, his clothes rumpled and smelling heavily of pot, but Stiles feigned sleep so that his brother wouldn't see the red rimming his eyes or the purple-black shadows sweeping below empty orbs.

Staring unseeingly at nothing at all, Stiles paid no mind to the receding blackness. Eventually, night rolled into early dawn, the sun rising despite Stiles' wish to stay cocooned in his bed, surrounded by the same clawing, devoid darkness he felt in his chest.

"Hey." Isaac grumbled just as the sun cast beams of light over his face. He crawled out of his own bed and climbed into Stiles'. When Stiles didn't respond Isaac added, "You slept here last night."

There was no question in that so Stiles didn't feel the need to respond.

"What happened?" Isaac questioned, already curling himself around the blanket burrito that was currently his little brother. Rather than trying to explain, Stiles burrowed into Isaac's chest and let his deafening silence do all the talking. "Oh, kiddo." Isaac sighed, unerringly locating Stiles' head beneath the blankets and rubbing soothingly at his crown. "I'm sorry."

Stiles let Isaac coddle him for a long while, taking comfort in the fact that despite everything else, his brother was his one constant. Stiles knew without a doubt that Isaac would stay with him for as long as he needed, even going so far as to ignore his cellphone when it vibrated across his nightstand.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Isaac eventually asked when Stiles finally emerged from his blanket-prison.

"I fucked up." Stiles croaked, his voice broken and hoarse from lack of sleep and an abundance of tears he'd spent the night fighting not to cry.

"Story of our lives, bro." Isaac sighed, rubbing a hand between Stiles' shoulder blades. "Since you actually slept in your own bed last night, I'm willing to bet that all this is because of Derek."

"I think he hates me, Isaac." Stiles sighed despondently. "God, I am such an idiot."

"You are not." Isaac argued, slapping halfheartedly at the back of Stiles' head. "And Derek doesn't hate you. No matter what you did or didn't do, I don't think that asshole is even capable of hating you."

"I don't know what to do." Stiles confessed, forcing himself upright and drawing his blanket tight around him so that only his face was visible. "I don't know how to fix it."

"Go talk to him, Stiles." Isaac suggested. "I may not be the poster boy for healthy relationships or functional communication, but talking is apparently a thing that works. Especially for you. You are the only person I know that can talk their way out of absolutely anything."

"But... What if he's right?" Stiles gnawed on his bottom lip, anxious and uncertain in a way he hadn't been in weeks. "What if everything he said is true and I'm just a giant coward who's too afraid of what his father thinks to actually stand up and fight for what I want?"

"You don't believe that, do you?" Isaac queried, hiking a challenging eyebrow. "You're a lot of things, little brother, but I've never known you to be a coward. Scared? Yes. I've seen you straight up terrified. But you are not a coward, Stiles. Cowards don't face their fears, they run from them. You've never run from anything in your life."

Stiles felt a smile tug at his lips but it never succeeded in fully forming. "Did you tell Dad yet? About Scott and Allison?"

Isaac carded a hand through his hair. "No." he said with a wince. "But then again, I _am_ a coward. A giant, Cowardly Lion of a man. Dad likes Aiden for some inexplicable reason. I was going to tell him yesterday, right after I told Aiden it was over."

"But?" Stiles pressed.

"But, Dad walked into the dining hall at the exact moment I opened my mouth to tell Aiden to fuck off. They started talking about football and Dad was smiling, all proud and shit, and I just couldn't do it."

"Does Mom know?" Stiles asked, genuinely curious.

Isaac snorted. "Of course she does. Mom knows everything, Stiles. Even the shit we don't think she knows? She somehow knows anyway."

Stiles laughed, a battered and edgy sound that sounded wrong to his ears and felt wrong in his throat.

Isaac rolled out of the bed, tugging Stiles' blanket as he went. "Go and talk to Derek, Stiles. But, take a shower first. You look like death."

"Fuck you too, dickbag." Stiles called after Isaac's retreating form. A laugh filtered back to him and Stiles couldn't help but smile as he forced himself to climb out of bed.


	17. Mended Hearts And Bloodied Knuckles

Derek wasn't at his cabin. It was the first place Stiles tried though he already knew Derek wouldn't be there. Stiles was relatively sure that he knew exactly where Derek was, where he would go to find a shoulder to lean on, but he hesitated. What if Derek didn't want to see him? What if he turned Stiles away and told him it was over? What if the last time Stiles got to be Derek's he fucked it up by being afraid?

Almost without his permission, Stiles found his feet carrying him to Lydia's front door. He felt like he was too aware of his body when he rapped his knuckles against the wood, his heart thudding a too quick cadence against his ribs, his breath coming in labored inhalations that made his head ache. Stiles tapped a foot nervously, his fingers twitching as they tugged at the hem of his t-shirt while he waited.

Lydia answered the door, her face a porcelain mask that gave away nothing of what swirled below. She stood in the doorway with her arms crossed around her middle, her long hair piled high on her head, one hip cocked defiantly.

"Is he here?" Stiles asked in a small, thready voice when it became obvious Lydia wasn't going to speak.

She hesitated, looking Stiles over as if considering his worthiness, her lips turning down just slightly at the corners. After a moment in which Stiles felt like he was going to burst into flames under the intensity of her scrutiny, Lydia let the words she'd seemed determined to contain slip from her mouth. "Just tell me something, Stiles." When he didn't object, she posed her question. "Are you keeping this from your father because you're afraid of what he'd think of you, or because you're afraid of he'd think of Derek?"

Stiles opened his mouth to respond but snapped it shut with a click of teeth, giving himself a moment to consider his answer. He didn't want to blurt just any answer, the first thing that jumped to the forefront of his mind. Stiles wanted to give the question as much consideration as it deserved. When he finally settled on what he wanted to say, he spoke deliberately and decisively. "My father's opinion means a lot to me, Lydia. I want him to be proud of me, of the choices I make, of the man I'm struggling to become. I want my father to be able to look at me and know that he raised me well, that I'm smart and capable and that he doesn't have to worry about me. My dad knows me, okay? He knows me better than I do most days. But, he doesn't know the first thing about Derek. So, no. My father's opinion of Derek means very little to me at this point. I want them to get along someday, sure. I want them to be able to talk about sports while sharing a six pack, to make fun of me when I'm sitting right there because they both care enough to bother. But, the way I feel about Derek is not dependent on what my father thinks of him. The reason I'm hesitating to tell my dad about me and Derek has nothing to do with Derek and everything to do with the fact that I am fucking terrified of screwing up my relationship with either one of them."

Stiles drew in a deep, shuddering breath and Lydia eyed him thoughtfully, the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. She didn't utter another word, just closed the door and left Stiles standing alone on her porch. He flailed in a frustrated whirlwind of limbs before turning to plop down on her stairs, his head hanging above his hands where they lay limply between his knees. He barely had time to berate himself for thinking he could rationalize his choices to Lydia when he heard the door open again. He jumped back to his feet in time to see Derek come through it.

Derek didn't speak, just met Stiles' gaze before letting his eyes skirt away to focus on a random spot amongst the trees. Seeing Stiles, his skin pale and his eyes bloodshot, made it obvious that he hadn't gotten any more sleep than Derek himself had. Something deep in Derek's gut knotted, tight and almost painful, and he had to swallow against it.

"Derek." Stiles breathed, his body moving forward before he could stop himself. He stopped without touching Derek, his hand hovering in the air between them, unsure of how welcome his touch would be. "I'm so sorry, Derek. I can't even tell you how sorry. I know I fucked up and I want to fix it. I will fix it, I swear to God. I just... I need you to let me try."

Derek reluctantly forced his eyes back to Stiles' face, drank in the familiar sight of Stiles' wide cognac eyes, the perfect bow curve of his lips. "You're going to tell your parents about me? About us?" he asked, his tone skeptical despite the monologue he'd just listened to Stiles give Lydia.

Stiles nodded vigorously. "My mom already knows, but I promise I will tell my dad soon. I just need a little more time to figure out what to say."

Derek's brain snagged on the first part of Stiles' sentence. "You told your mom?"

"Yes." Stiles smiled, the expression paper thin but as real as it could be. "Yesterday morning before breakfast. I'd like to say I told you so but after last night it feels almost cruel."

"You... I... Why didn't you tell me that, Stiles?" Derek shoved a hand through his hair., irritation and confusion plaguing his mind.

"You didn't give me a chance!" Stiles replied bitingly.

Derek frowned, his face pinched with frustrated anger. "I'm sorry." he gritted, shifting in place, dropping his hands to his sides before pushing them into his pockets.

Stiles was stunned for a beat, his mouth open with no words tumbling out. When he got a hold of himself he asked, "Sorry for what, exactly?" He wasn't trying to be a dick, really. He just wanted to be sure of what Derek was apologizing for, if they agreed on the things that needed an apology in the first place.

"For everything." Derek shrugged, scuffing his heel against the wooden planks beneath his feet. "For taking out my shitty day on you. For throwing Jackson in your face when I really do know better. For trying to force you to do something you weren't ready to do."

"Wow." Stiles was thoroughly stunned. He hadn't expected Derek to be quite so specific in his apology. Hell, he hadn't expected Derek to apologize at all. "Thanks. Seriously, Der. Thank you."

Derek nodded, not ready to meet Stiles' eye just yet. He didn't flinch though when Stiles reached out a hand and snagged him by the front of his Henley, pulling him forward.

"Can we make up now?" Stiles asked gently, almost shyly, as he stepped into Derek's space, his gaze catching and holding Derek's through the thick fringe of his lashes. "Because the last twelve hours have been the longest of my life and I really want to just curl up with you somewhere and pretend they never happened."

No, it wasn't perfect. Things were still unsaid, the wrong people still knew they were together while the right people had no idea, and neither one of them were brave enough, just yet, to put their feelings into words. There were still a hundred reasons why they should talk, why they should avoid stepping into the familiar pattern of ignoring everything and simply falling into one another. Regardless, Derek pulled Stiles into the hard line of his chest and buried his face in the dip of Stiles' neck, wrapping his arms around the teenager vice tight. Stiles gripped back with equal fervor, his fingers tightening and twisting in the fabric of Derek's t-shirt. Pressed flush together, arms curled like vines to hold one another close, Derek was just about to give his enthusiastic consent for all things involving him and Stiles and a bed, when he heard a grating bark of laughter from off to the side of Lydia's porch.

"Looks like maybe I picked the wrong brother." Aiden chuckled darkly, his eyes lingering a little too long on Stiles for Derek's comfort. "Don't worry, Stiles." Aiden called out, his smirk cocky and bordering on a sneer. "I went slumming for a while, too."

Derek flew off the porch before his brain had a chance to catch up, vaulting over the railing and tackling Aiden to the dirt with a shoulder to his solar plexus, knocking the air from the other man's lungs. Aiden recovered quickly and arched away from the ground in an effort to buck Derek off him while simultaneously trying to avoid the fist aimed at his face.

"Derek!" Stiles yelled out as Lydia rushed out onto the porch and echoed him. Stiles ran down the steps and rushed around to the side of the porch, ignoring the couple of employees who had heard the commotion and come to investigate. "Derek, stop!"

No one else moved to intervene, probably having seen this particular confrontation coming from a mile away. Stiles, however, snagged Derek by the bicep and gave a rough tug to try and pull him off of Aiden, who was sporting a split lip by then. Derek shook Stiles' hand off, fisting his hand in the collar of Aiden's t-shirt, and dragged the asshole to his feet.

"Derek, come on." Stiles curled a hand around Derek's arm, refusing to be shrugged off again. "You made your point." he said, gesturing toward Aiden's lip, where a thin trail of blood was trickling down to his chin.

Derek, chest heaving and adrenaline coursing through his veins, shoved Aiden away. He landed hard on his back, knocking him breathless for the second time.

"You're not worth it." Derek spat, glaring down at him for a tense moment.

Stiles kept a hand on Derek, and relief poured through him when Derek turned and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pulling Stiles into his side. Stiles heaved a weighted sigh, his hands shaking slightly as he let Derek lead him away.

 

____________________________________________

 

Derek winced, the burn of alcohol searing his scraped knuckles when Stiles swiped at them with a cotton cloth. Derek was sitting on the closed toilet lid, Stiles perched on an upside down garbage can between his knees.

"You shouldn't have done that." Stiles mumbled, his eyes fixed solidly on where he was doctoring Derek's hand. "What if he tells Finstock? You could lose your job, Derek."

"He won't. Trust me, he won't want to admit that I got a punch in on him." Derek shrugged. "And, he fucking deserved it, Stiles. He had no right to talk about Lydia like that. Or you, either."

"No, he really didn't." Stiles agreed as he tossed the bloodied cloth into the sink and then lifted Derek's injured hand in both of his. "But we both know that he said what he said just to fuck with you. I don't know what it is with him and Kate, but the two of them deserve each other."

Derek debated with himself for a silent minute, caught somewhere between wanting to be honest with Stiles and not wanting to reignite the fight they'd just let flame out. Ultimately, Derek took an extra second to prepare himself in case Stiles got angry and then muttered, "I talked to Kate yesterday."

Stiles' eyes snapped up to meet his, wary and assessing, but he didn't release Derek's hand. "Alright." he said, his tone stilted and careful.

"I ran into her in town when I was picking up Lydia's scripts." Derek elaborated.

"And?" Stiles pressed, eyebrows raised expectantly.

Derek told him everything. He told Stiles all about how Kate was trying to draw him back in, how she kept insisting that he and Stiles had an expiration date and wouldn't last. Derek only meant to tell Stiles about what happened in the coffee shop, but he somehow found himself telling him all about his and Kate's history. He was suddenly rambling on about Kate showing up in Wolfwicke under the guise of visiting Allison, when really she was sneaking around with Derek. He was telling Stiles about Kate getting jealous and possessive, how she went from something easy and careless to something twisted and messy that Derek couldn't find his way out of.

"The only one who knows about this, who knows everything, is Allison." Derek said when he finished.

"That's why Scott said Allison was pissed off at Kate." Stiles laughed humorlessly when the thought became clear.

"What?" Derek asked, his heavy brows turning down in confusion.

"The night that I found Lydia behind the kitchen?" When Derek nodded, Stiles continued, "You were dancing with Kate in the pavilion. I... I was watching from the sidelines." Stiles blushed, looking down at the ground. "Scott made a comment about Allison asking Kate to lay off in public, something about Allison getting shit for it. He said he didn't know what happened between you and Kate but that Allison was going to be pissed. It didn't make sense at the time, but I guess it does now."

"I never wanted Scott to know." Derek admitted, scooting forward so that he was surrounding Stiles with his legs. "Kate wasn't something I was ever proud of. And it's not like it was ever serious. I didn't see a point in telling Scott that I was sleeping with his girlfriend's aunt when it wasn't supposed to ever _be_ anything. Allison... She only knows because she's too fucking smart. She tried to warn me." Derek chuckled, dragging his good hand down his face. "She told me that Kate wasn't the type to share, that I was fooling myself if I thought for a second this would end any way but in flames. But, Kate never had a problem with me fucking other people. She was doing the same thing, after all. I slept with whoever I wanted and it was never an issue."

"Until me." Stiles whispered, picking at his fingernails and avoiding Derek's eye.

"Until you." Derek agreed softly. He reached out to grip Stiles' chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting it. "The first time I saw you... We weren't even friends then, much less sleeping together. But, she knew. Kate knew that you were different, that the way I looked at you was different. I've never seen her angrier than the night I told her it was over."

"She won't stop, you know." Stiles said, his eyes tight and worried. "Whatever this thing is with her and Aiden... It can't mean anything good. For any of us."

"I know." Derek conceded. "But, it doesn't change anything. Not for you and me."

Stiles stood and walked out of the bathroom, running his hands through his hair and pacing the floor of Derek's bedroom. Derek followed him, stopping beside the bed, sure to give Stiles the space he seemed to need.

"I'm not going to Columbia." Stiles caught Derek by surprise, the words tumbling out of his mouth so fast that Derek thought he might have misheard.

"What... Did you just..." Derek stepped forward without thought, his legs carrying him closer of their own will. "Why not?" He couldn't let this be because of him. He couldn't be the reason Stiles stayed in California.

"I never wanted to go." Stiles gnawed his bottom lip, scratching self-consciously at the back of his neck. "Columbia was my parents dream, you know? My dad wanted me to be a judge someday, to be the guy who put away the people he arrested, I guess. But... I never wanted it. I told you, that night we fell asleep on the deck, that I wanted to stay in Beacon Hills and follow in my dad's footsteps. I meant it, Derek. I just... I never had a good enough reason to fight to stay."

Derek's heart lurched in his chest, his stomach swooping and then rising up in his throat. "Now you do?" he asked. He wasn't even sure if the question carried, if he'd spoken loud enough for Stiles to hear it. His pulse was too loud in his ears for him to hear anything but the blood rushing in his head.

"I have you." Stiles said simply, as though that's really all there was to it. He took a step forward, reducing the distance between them to almost nothing. "I... Derek." he breathed, the name hitching in his lungs.

Derek surged forward, his hands coming up to cup Stiles' face, and crushed his mouth to the younger man's. He poured everything he had into that kiss. Everything he'd been holding back, everything he felt but was too afraid to say, everything he needed Stiles to know. His lips were insistent and probing, desperation and frantic need evident in the way he licked into Stiles' mouth. Stiles responded immediately, returning the kiss without withholding a single ounce of emotion. He whimpered, clutching at Derek and trying to pull him closer.

Derek tore his mouth away, gasping air into his burning lungs. He looked Stiles straight in the eye, his expression fierce and flayed open. "I love you, Stiles." he choked, the sentiment clear even if his words were strangled. He wasn't even sure if he meant to say it, only that he couldn't _not_. And then the words were out there, hanging in the air between them, the scariest thing Derek had ever done.

Stiles face crumpled, his lids falling shut over eyes shining with moisture. "Jesus, Derek." he wheezed, heart thundering in his chest. "I love you, too." He forced his eyes open, wet dark golden citrine irises bright and full of wonder. "I really fucking do."

It wasn't a conscious decision when Derek hauled Stiles toward his bed, or when he fell backward onto the mattress, forcing a startled noise out of Stiles when he pulled him down on top of him. Derek didn't think when he spread broad palms across Stiles' back, pressing him down as Derek pushed up. Everything was stripped down and raw, all sensation and feeling with no second spared for coherent thought.

Stiles ran open hands up the planes of Derek's chest, fingers curling around both sides of his neck when he reached it, his mouth never once ceasing its bruising assault on Derek's.

"Wait." Derek pulled away and Stiles froze, eyes wide and questioning as he stared down at the man beneath him.

"What? What's wrong?" Stiles asked, his voice weak and breathy.

"What's your real name, Stiles?" Derek questioned, his mouth quirking up on one side.

Stiles laughed, light and relieved. He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of Derek's ear as he whispered the name written on his birth certificate. Derek shivered as Stiles' humid breath ghosted over his skin, the obviously hand-me-down name a difficult mix of hard consonants and long vowels.

"That's," Derek chuckled warmly, something shifting in his chest, "that's a real grown up name."

Laughing again as he scraped teeth over the hinge of Derek's jaw, Stiles sighed. "Shut up and kiss me, Hale."


	18. The Best Part Of Fighting Is Making Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. This chapter is pretty much just PWP. There isn't much (Read: pretty much zilch) by way of plot. But, I can't see many of you hating that so...
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> _*This is me warning for NSFW content, including: Bottom!Derek, Top!Stiles, and Rimming.*_
> 
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> 
> If you need me to tag/warn for anything else please, please, please let me know.

They hadn't meant to fall asleep. Derek had every intention of taking Stiles apart piece by piece, watching the younger man come unraveled like a loose spool of thread rolling across the floor. He wanted nothing more than to hold Stiles down and slide into him, marking him as his own from the inside out.

Stiles was one hundred percent on board with that plan, eagerly rolling his hips down into Derek's, moving in tandem with every shift, every slide of Derek's body beneath him. But there was something so perfect about the way Derek opened his eyes and blinked blearily up at Stiles, the way their kisses faded into them lazily making out rather than the desperation laced tangle of tongues it had started out as. It was a nice way to come down from the day's events, a gentle landing despite a turbulent ride.

Neither of them were surprised to find themselves slipping back into consciousness, Stiles still draped over Derek with his head tucked up under his chin, in a slowly darkening room. Derek was eased awake by the delicate nudge of Stiles' nose against his throat, the soft slide of his lips against Derek's skin.

"What time is it?" Derek mumbled, his voice sleep roughened and scratchy.

"Early still." Stiles murmured into his neck. "Or late, I guess... Depends on how you look at it."

Derek decided he didn't care one way or the other. He lifted a hand to bury fingers in Stiles' hair, rubbing softly at his scalp just to hear the contented sound vibrate in his chest. The groan rolled into a growl, one that originated in Stiles' stomach. Derek chuckled, his body shaking under Stiles.

"Don't judge me." Stiles admonished, nipping at the thin skin beneath Derek's jaw. "I haven't eaten since yesterday afternoon and my boyfriend is a big jerk who forgets to feed me."

Derek snorted and rolled them, pushing Stiles' back into the mattress and falling into the cradle of his parted thighs. He dropped a lingering kiss to Stiles' lips before unceremoniously pushing himself up and away, flicking on the lamp on the nightstand as he went.

"Why are you so mean to me?" Stiles whined, squinting against the brighter light and making grabby hands at Derek. "No, where are you going? Come back." he pouted.

"You need to eat, Stiles." Derek told him firmly, his tone not allowing room for argument.

That, of course, didn't stop Stiles from doing exactly that. "I don't want to eat. I want to stay in this bed and explore every inch of your glorious body. With my tongue."

A warm shiver slithered down Derek's spine. "Later." he promised. "Right now, we're going to take a shower, and then you need to eat. Come on. "

Stiles reluctantly took the hand Derek held out and let him pull him to his feet, grumbling under his breath as Derek led him to the bathroom.

 

______________________________

 

Fresh as the day he was born and hair still damp from the handsy but unsatisfying shower, Stiles collapsed heavily onto the couch in Derek's living room, his body spread haphazardly wherever it landed, while he listened to Derek move around in the kitchen.

"Can you turn the stereo on?" Derek called over his shoulder as he set up a pot of coffee so that all he had to do was turn it on when they'd finished eating.

"Nope." Stiles sighed, settling deeper into the cushions. "No can do. I'm busy reacquainting myself with your sofa. I can't leave now, she might never let me lay on her again if I abandon her now."

Derek tugged at Stiles' hair when he passed the couch on his way to do what Stiles was being too stubbornly lazy to do. "I should've let you starve."

"Yes." Stiles agreed easily. "Yes, you absolutely should have. We could be having sex right now, Derek. You could be fucking me into the mattress as we speak, but no. You apparently feel the desire to feed me outweighs the desire to be inside me, which. Rude."

Derek rolled his eyes, a reluctant grin tugging at his lips. "You called me a bad boyfriend." he reminded Stiles.

"I did not!" Stiles didn't bother sitting up to argue his point. He simply let his arm fall away from his face, narrowing his eyes at Derek. "I said you were a forgetful boyfriend. Big difference there, babe."

Derek's heartbeat absolutely did _not_ trip at the casual endearment. Nor did his chest tighten as he stood beside the sofa staring down at the careless sprawl of limbs that was Stiles. His knees _definitely_ didn't feel the least bit wobbly when he bent to drop a kiss on Stiles' lips.

"Right." Derek mumbled into his mouth. "Big difference."

"What are you still doing over here?" Stiles asked, pushing at Derek's chest ineffectually after stealing one last kiss. "I thought you were gonna feed me."

Derek huffed a laugh as he straightened and pushed up the sleeves of his Henley. "You're an idiot." he grumbled on his way back to the kitchen.

"Love you, too!" Stiles called after him.

 

__________________________________________

 

After an unnecessarily long argument about who was going to the dishes, in which Stiles lost because Derek was riding the tail end of a strange domesticity streak at the moment, Derek was up to his wrists in soap bubbles. Finishing up with the frying pan he'd used for grilled cheese, he rinsed his hands and the sink basin just in time to feel the long fingers curl around his hips.

"Finished?" Stiles asked as he brushed his lips over the sensitive spot just below Derek's ear.

Goosebumps prickled his skin, warmth blooming out from where Stiles' mouth lingered on his neck. "Finished." Derek confirmed, leaning back into the heat of Stiles' chest.

"Good." Stiles hummed as his fingers dipped beneath Derek's shirt, his palms skimming down the ridges of his abs, deft fingers sliding through Derek's happy trail. "Because, if I remember correctly, I was promised 'later'."

Derek let his head fall back, coming to rest on Stiles' shoulder as he nodded his agreement. Stiles crowded Derek against the counter, his hips pressing into Derek's ass to let him feel that Stiles was already half-hard. Biting his lip, Derek sucked a sharp breath through his teeth when just the tips of Stiles' fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his jeans. "Yeah." Derek croaked. "I remember that too."

Urging him to let his head drop forward, Stiles kissed his way to the nape of Derek's neck, littering his hair line with light touches of his lips. He dropped kisses on every inch of skin that sat above Derek's collar, tongue flicking out to taste as he went. Stiles' hands worked open the button of Derek's jeans while his mouth continued its exploration.

He had the zipper down and his fingers tracing the outline of Derek's cock through his briefs before he spoke again. "Take your shirt off." he whispered the command, his bottom lip dragging dryly at the shell of Derek's ear.

Doing as he was told, Derek reached back and caught the collar of his shirt, pulling it up and off. He barely had time to draw another breath when he felt Stiles' mouth latch onto the topmost bump of his spine. A weak gurgle of sound caught in Derek's chest while Stiles sucked a mark into his flesh, his hand closing around Derek's erection tightly and stroking once before releasing. Derek could feel Stiles' smirk on his skin when he whimpered. In retaliation, he planted his hands on either side of the sink, leaning forward so his ass jutted out, and rocked his hips back.

Stiles' fingers dug into his hips, hard and sweet, as he hissed, "Fucking hell, Derek." Derek tried to turn, needing to kiss Stiles, to see his eyes darken with pleasure, but Stiles stopped him. Fingers clenched unrelentingly on Derek's flesh, Stiles took a step back. "Stay just like that." he told Derek, his tone hard and hot like burning.

Again, Derek did as Stiles demanded. He spread his feet a little wider and let his head hang between his shoulders, biting back a ragged moan when he felt Stiles' tongue at the base of his spine. Stiles pressed a wet, branding kiss into the small of Derek's back, mouthing at the smooth skin in a slow tease. Derek's chest heaved with the effort to stay still, a rolling rumble building behind his ribs.

"So responsive." Stiles breathed, his breath cool as it washed over Derek's dampened skin. He dragged a long line up the center of Derek's back, the slick slide of his tongue feeling like a single flame licking at his vertebrae.

Derek did moan then, unable to stop it anymore than he could stop the flex of his muscles under Stiles' tongue. Stiles' hands kneaded up Derek's sides as his tongue flicked out at salted skin. "Fuck." Derek moaned, his voice sounding tight and exceedingly low even to his own ears. "Stiles."

"What, Der?" Stiles crooned, already sucking and nipping his way back down, swerving off course to bite hard at Derek's shoulder blades. "Talk to me. Tell me what you want. What you need."

Derek shook his head, trying to clear some of the heavy fog that had settled around his brain. "I don't... I can't... Jesus Christ, Stiles. _Please_." He was nearly growling by then, his fingers gripping the counter painfully, his cock swollen and achingly hard where it pressed up toward his bellybutton, still trapped inside his briefs.

"I can't help you until you ask for it, Derek." Stiles punctuated his words with a stinging bite to the swell of skin peeking out above the top of Derek's jeans. Derek gasped at the bolt of electricity that tore through him, the sting from Stiles' bite paling in comparison. His hips jerked back of their own accord, much to Stiles' pleased amusement.

Derek was so focused on trying to control his responses that he was caught off guard when Stiles started easing his jeans, along with his briefs, down over his ass. He quickly recovered, helping Stiles free him from his denim confines by stepping out of them once they were down below his knees.

"Your ass is amazing." Stiles murmured, massaging the tight muscles, his damp breath gusting over Derek's skin with every word. After a moment where he seemed to be hesitating, he said, "I know that we've never talked about this, about preferences and all that, but can... Could I... How do you feel about rimming?"

A painful sounding whine erupted from Derek's chest before he could catch it and one hand slipped off the edge of the counter, pitching him forward. "Fuck, Stiles. You can't just say shit like that." Derek panted, his nerves practically vibrating with the desire Stiles' words had sparked.

Stiles scoffed at that, his thumbs dipping into the cleft of Derek's ass and spreading his cheeks. "Oh, please. If I can't have a sexually explicit conversation with my boyfriend about whether or not he enjoys a tongue on and/or in his asshole, who am I supposed to have it with?"

"Point." Derek conceded breathlessly as Stiles rubbed the dry pad of his thumb against the body part in question. "Just... A little warning next time."

"Sure." Stiles agreed casually. "Like, 'Hey, Der, go ahead and brace yourself because I'm about to tongue fuck you so hard you might pass out and I don't want to see you hurt your face.'"

"Exac-" Derek cut off with a surprised grunt as Stiles lapped at his hole, the slippery glide of his tongue making Derek's eyes roll back. " _Fuck_." he hissed through clenched teeth.

It wasn't like Derek hadn't ever been rimmed. It had just been a while. He hadn't been with anyone, male or otherwise, who was into rimming since before he'd started working at The Redwood. It just wasn't something he'd gotten to take part in as of late, no matter how thoroughly enjoyable an experience he found it to be. Especially with a partner who knew what they were doing.

And, holy hell, did Stiles know what he was doing. He was patient and eager in a way that was deliciously balanced, his tongue tracing sluggish spirals at Derek's rim before pressing in just enough to coax the muscle open. While his mouth worked, his hands roamed, massaging the high roundness of Derek's cheeks with sublime pressure, spreading wide to smooth down his flanks, kneading firmly down his calves before making a return circuit and starting all over again.

The pointed dart of Stiles' tongue as it sank past the tight clutch of puckered flesh over and over had Derek's thighs shaking and his teeth digging sharply into his bottom lip in a pointless attempt to stifle the pitiful sounds falling from his mouth. Grunted noises and whining pants were fucked out of him by Stiles' expert tongue, a garbled and broken slew of nonsense amid the exquisite torture of Stiles' sinfully hot mouth. The sounds eventually coalesced, twisting themselves into a vague string of syllables that was probably Stiles' name but could have been just about anything. Stiles seemed to recognize it for what it was and appreciated the effort. He rewarded Derek by easing the tip of one long finger into Derek's body alongside his tongue, saliva smoothing the way.

Derek's already labored breath caught in his throat and he thrust himself back on Stiles' hand, rolling his pelvis down to seek more.

"Tell me, Derek." Stiles said, biting at one of Derek's ass cheeks before lapping out to soothe the mark.

"More." Derek moaned, now bent so far forward that his forehead was resting on the edge of the counter. "I need more."

Stiles hummed in what was apparently the affirmative because in the next moment he was pushing in further, twisting as he went.

Derek shuddered and whimpered when the digit was inside him as far as anatomy allowed. "Another." he begged, not giving a shit that he was in fact begging Stiles to finger fuck him in the middle of his kitchen. "Come on, Stiles. Please." Stiles let out a harsh groan of his own and Derek felt the fingers curled around his hip dig more harshly into his flesh.

"You have no idea what you sound like." Stiles breathed, pausing to swirl his tongue around where his finger disappeared inside Derek's body. "What your voice does to me." He pulled the finger out just enough to allow him to thrust it back in. "Or what you look like, spread out for me like this." His fingertip glanced off Derek's prostate at the same moment he pressed a wet kiss on one of Derek's cheeks. "Do you have any idea how badly I want to bury my cock in this impossibly flawless ass?"

A flood of heat crashed through Derek, his skin coloring pink with the intensity of it. "What are you waiting for then?" he taunted, arching his back in a way he knew presented his ass in the best possible way. "You want to fuck me, Stiles? Then fuck. Me."

Derek heard the catch of breath in Stiles' throat, felt his hands spasm in and on Derek's body. Recovering quickly, Stiles pushed to his feet and flattened his chest to Derek's back, his erection stabbing into Derek's ass cheek as his finger whirled inside Derek more forcefully than it had before.

"Is that what you want, Derek?" Stiles asked, his breath harsh and ragged in Derek's ear. "Do you want my cock inside you? Do want to feel it for days?"

Derek's jaw worked, his teeth grinding in an effort to bring some cohesion to the scattered thoughts inside his head. "Yes." he gritted out, chest tight around lungs that couldn't seem to draw in enough air. "I want it, Stiles."

Stiles nipped at Derek's shoulder before he slowly withdrew his finger from his hole. "Stay just like this. Don't move until I get back. Do you understand?"

Derek, overwhelmed by the waves of want rippling through him, could only nod his acquiescence. The funny thing was, there was no force behind the command, no push or threat in the words. Stiles said them almost gently and yet, Derek still wanted to obey.

Stiles slipped away, down the hallway to Derek's bedroom, and Derek could do nothing but stand there like he'd been told. Bent over a counter in his kitchen, legs spread in desperate invitation, ass practically begging for Stiles to simply _take_ , Derek knew what he must look like. But, it was okay. He was doing this with Stiles and Stiles loved him. Letting someone else take control like this wasn't normally how Derek worked but he trusted Stiles. Derek didn't feel the need to ride Stiles, just so he could maintain some thread of control while being impaled by a cock. He wanted to be bent over and fucked, wanted Stiles to hold his hips with clawing fingers and rail him right against the counter.

Derek was so busy trying to keep himself upright, fighting the shaking in his limbs and gravity as a whole, he didn't hear Stiles return until he was setting the bottle of lube and a condom from Derek's nightstand on the counter next to Derek's elbow. "Good boy, Hale." he murmured, leaning over Derek to mouth at his neck.

Flushing anew with the praise, Derek jolted when he felt two slicked fingers probing at his asshole. He hissed in a sharp breath when they slid past his rim. Two digits quickly turned into a comfortably stretching three and Derek was a wreck. "I'm good, Stiles, come on."

"Okay, Der. Okay." Stiles muttered in a soft, soothing tone.

Derek pushed up on his elbows and took a few deep breaths to level himself out while Stiles rolled the condom on and slicked his dick. His heart was still racing and his lungs still felt too small beneath his ribs, but he felt a little steadier by the time Stiles started pushing into him. Stiles had his thumbs in the valley between the globes of Derek's ass, spreading them apart while he nudge past the tight ring of muscle and into the clutching heat of Derek's body. Derek remembered to bear down and his body sheathed Stiles' cock more completely, dragging him in deeper.

Groaning at the sensation, the tight stretch of his rim around Stiles' cock and the full to brimming feeling as Stiles bottomed out, Derek's knees nearly buckled. Stiles grabbed Derek's hips and pulled him up, his pelvis flush to Derek's ass and their thighs fitted together, just holding him there so that Derek's body could adjust around the intrusion.

When he finally managed to suck in a shaky breath and the tension in his body slackened, Derek gave a weak rock back into Stiles' lap to tell him he was good to move.

"God, you feel amazing, Derek." Stiles panted as he kissed and licked at the curve where Derek's neck met his shoulder. He pulled out slowly and thrust back in, careful not to give Derek too much, too fast. "Fucking perfect." he mumbled into Derek's skin.

The aching stretch inside Derek gave way to pulsing pleasure as Stiles kept up the steady push and pull. Derek moved his hips in time with Stiles' thrusts, rolling back and down when Stiles pushed into him and giving up the pretense of even trying to hold back the multitude of sounds that fell from his lips.

Reedy moans rolled into fucked-out grunts as Stiles' tempo increased. He slid his hands down Derek's forearms to close his hands over Derek's, slotting their fingers together. Stiles was pressed all along Derek's back, practically draped over him, their bodies aligned in a way that made Derek feel like he was being enveloped. Their skin turned slick with sweat, the heat between them building with each drag of Stiles' cock along Derek's walls.

"Fuck." Derek wheezed, biting his lip sharply as Stiles' rhythm increased, his hips snapping forward. "Harder." he pled, shoving his ass back and feeling the wet slap of his leaking hard-on against his abs. "I thought you wanted me to feel you for days." he taunted over his shoulder, his voice thin and rattling.

With Derek's head at that angle Stiles was able to catch his mouth in a sloppy kiss. Derek moaned into it, the messy tangle of tongues a perfect counterpoint to the forceful way Stiles pulled Derek back, impaling him on his cock. Stiles hammered into Derek, forcing punched-out grunts and garbled curses out of him. Derek's little kitchen was sweltering and sweat beaded along Stiles' hairline, trailing down between his shoulder blades and following the curve of his spine to collect in the small of his back as he pistoned his hips.

Stiles could feel his orgasm building low in his belly, scorching and heavy and ready to erupt. He released one of Derek's hands and peeled himself off his back to look down between them, watching his cock disappear between Derek's cheeks. The angle shifted, and when Stiles rammed forward he could tell he hit Derek's prostate by the keen Derek let out. "Can you come like this?" Stiles asked through shallow breaths.

Derek shook his head. "I need more." The words sounded urgent and pleading, and the thought that Stiles did that, that he reduced _Derek_ to that kind of raw need...

"I'm not gonna last much longer." Stiles bit out, clenching down hard around the familiar buzzing deep in his chest that was a precursor to his inevitable release. "Fuck your fist for me, Der. Wrap your hand around that perfect fucking cock and come on my dick."

Again, Derek did exactly what Stiles told him to. He braced himself with one palm flat against the edge of the counter and curled his fingers around his neglected cock. The satin smooth skin was already slick with pre-come, his foreskin gliding deliciously with every tug. Derek tightened his grip around his shaft, jerking faster to try and keep time with Stiles as he slammed their bodies together.

"Shit, shit, _shit_." Derek exhaled harshly, his cock swollen an angry red as he got closer and closer to coming.

"Let go, Derek." Stiles urged shakily, the brutal buck of his hips faltering.

It only took a few more well aimed, pounding shoves of Stiles' cock, combined with Derek's fist on his own dick, to have Derek shouting out as he came, painting his cabinets in long streaks. His orgasm tore through him, hard and fast, and his knees gave out. Stiles' hand shot between Derek's chest and the counter, taking most of Derek's weight so that he didn't crack his ribs on the sharp edge. With Derek's tight hole squeezing around his cock it was only a handful of plunging thrusts before Stiles was coming, buried to the hilt inside Derek. He collapsed against Derek's back, his cheek pressed to the nape of Derek's neck, in a trembling heap. Barely able to keep them standing, Stiles was more than happy to let the counter hold them both up.

"Holy shit." Stiles slurred when he could string words together again, tiny tremors still rolling through him. "That was... Wow." So, it wasn't a lot of words. But, still. Words.

Derek laughed weakly. "Congratulations. You fucked us both stupid."

"I'll celebrate later." Stiles mumbled into Derek's skin. "Do you think we can sleep like this?" he tried, having absolutely zero desire to try and move.

"Your hands gonna go numb in about three minutes and then you'll realize why that's a dumb idea." Derek yawned, shifting up to take some of his weight off the hand trapped between his ribs and the counter.

Stiles hissed, Derek's body moving around him making him flinch from oversensitivity. He reached between them to hold the condom in place as he pulled out. "Fine. I propose we crawl back to bed. I'm convinced that's the only way we're making it that far."

Derek eased his body upright, shivering at the strangely empty feeling in his lower half. "I don't care how we get there as long as I don't have to carry you."

Stiles jutted his bottom lip out in a pout but some if its effect was lost when he tossed the knotted condom into the trash and yelled, "Swoosh!"

Derek rolled his eyes and shoved Stiles toward the bedroom.


End file.
